"Better I die than leave this unanswered." He is insensible to his husband's plea; he is only conscious of his honor, and Burr's, and their family's, which will be dealt a severe blow indeed if this attack goes without revenge.

He saddles the horse, and loads his guns. Hoofbeats break the quiet, early morning like gunshots.

Hamilton does not return that night.

No, he does not return; he gallops hard to Jefferson's home, and once there, he does not gain entry. He will recall later that he attacked the door -- that a light-skinned Negro servant told him he must leave -- that he threatened with a pistol -- discharged the pistol at the lock? He will recall that he beat his hands bloody against the unyielding oak. Shouted himself hoarse. Called Jefferson every slur, every name.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Hamilton pays no mind to this intruder, not until he is held, restrained, and then he fights with all his viciousness and his fury to be released. Not until he is thrown against the ground hard enough to knock the breath from him, and held there with an unyielding grip on the scruff of his neck.

"He defiled my husband!" accuses Hamilton. "I -- demand -- satisfaction!" As he thrashes, against the restraint of President George Washington.