"Well, I, on the contrary, am thirty, and am disgusted with life; but
still I would rather not fight with you."

"Then you will apologize?"

"No, I have said enough. If you are not content, so much the better, for
you are not superior to me."

"But, monsieur, one cannot end a quarrel thus, without the risk of being
laughed at."--"I know it."

"Then you refuse to fight?"

"With you."

"After having provoked me?"

"I confess it."

"But if my patience fail, and I attack you?"

"I will throw my sword away; but I shall then have reason to hate you,
and the first time I find you in the wrong, I will kill you."

Ernanton sheathed his sword. "You are a strange man," said he, "and I
pity you."

"You pity me!"

"Yes, for you must suffer."