"That may be true," he interrupted; "but before we begin I think it right
to tell you, without at all meaning to boast of my skill, that I can kill
you if I wish to do so. Therefore you must see that the result of our
fight will be disagreeable to you in any case. You will die, or you will
owe me your life."

His cool impertinence angered me beyond endurance. He to speak of killing
me, one of the best swordsmen in France, where the art of sword-play is
really an art! The English are but bunglers with a gentleman's blade, and
should restrict themselves to pike and quarterstaff.

"Results be damned!" I answered. "I can kill you if I wish." Then it
occurred to me that I really did not wish to kill the handsome young
fellow toward whom I felt an irresistible attraction.

I continued: "But I prefer that you should owe me your life. I do not wish
to kill you. Guard!"

My opponent did not lift his sword, but smilingly said:--

"Then why do you insist upon fighting? I certainly do not wish to kill
you. In truth, I would be inclined to like you if you were not a Vernon."

"Damn your insolence! Guard! or I will run you through where you stand," I
answered angrily.

"But why do we fight?" insisted the stubborn fellow, with a coolness that
showed he was not one whit in fear of me.