was at least dense enough to provide an effective lattice.

There were no formalities over measurements of blades or selection
of ground. M. le Marquis removed his sword-belt and scabbard, but
declined - not considering it worth while for the sake of so negligible
an opponent - to divest himself either of his shoes or his coat.
Tall, lithe, and athletic, he stood to face the no less tall, but
very delicate and frail, M. de Vilmorin. The latter also disdained
to make any of the usual preparations. Since he recognized that it
could avail him nothing to strip, he came on guard fully dressed,
two hectic spots above the cheek-bones burning on his otherwise grey
face.

M. de Chabrillane, leaning upon a cane - for he had relinquished
his sword to M. de Vilmorin - looked on with quiet interest. Facing
him on the other side of the combatants stood Andre-Louis, the palest
of the four, staring from fevered eyes, twisting and untwisting
clammy hands.

His every instinct was to fling himself between the antagonists, to
protest against and frustrate this meeting. That sane impulse was
curbed, however, by the consciousness of its futility. To calm him,
he clung to the conviction that the issue could not really be very
serious. If the obligations of Philippe's honour compelled him to
cross swords with the man he had struck, M. de La Tour d'Azyr's
birth compelled him no less to do no serious hurt to the unfledged
lad he had so grievously provoked. M. le Marquis, after all, was
a man of honour. He could intend no more than to administer a
lesson; sharp, perhaps, but one by which his opponent must live to
profit. Andre-Louis clung obstinately to that for comfort.