"The sooner the better," answered Bisson.

"Will it be a _pas de deux_, or will we all join the dance?"

"Surely, a combat of two," gravely replied the islander. "We do not
understand Paris fashions here. With you and me, sir, there need be no
quarrel."

"Sure, and we could have an elegant fight without quarrelling," muttered
the Irishman, with a disappointed frown. "But 'anything for a quiet
life' is my motto. This is a mighty fine place, I'm thinking, where two
brave fellows can cut each other's throats in peace and without
disturbance." Major Querto stood by with the air of an indispensable
umpire.

The _escrime_ of those days had not attained its later refinements. The
combatants were placed opposite to each other, each flinging a cloak
about his left arm, to serve as a shield, and they prepared to encounter
in what would seem a fashion of "rough-and-tumble" to our modern
masters.

Both were brave men, and in the bloom of manhood. Elliot was the taller,
but Le Gallais, some seven or eight years older, far exceeded in
strength and weight. After scant ceremony the thrusting began. Feet
trampled, steel rang. A furious pass from the Jerseyman was with
difficulty caught in Elliot's cloak, and the sword for a moment
hampered. Before Le Gallais could extricate it, Elliot, with a savage
cry, ran in upon him, drawing back his elbow, so as to stab his
adversary with a shortened sword. A scuffle ensued, of which no