I had almost cured myself of my fancy when, a few days after our
conversation, I happened to go into a billiard-room where d'Ache was
playing with a Swiss named Schmit, an officer in the Swedish army. As
soon as d'Ache saw me he asked whether I would lay the ten Louis he owed
me against him.

"Yes," said I, "that will make double or quits."

Towards the end of the match d'Ache made an unfair stroke, which was so
evident that the marker told him of it; but as this stroke made him the
winner, d'Ache seized the stakes and put them in his pocket without
heeding the marker or the other player, who, seeing himself cheated
before his very eyes, gave the rascal a blow across the face with his
cue. D'Ache parried the blow with his hand, and drawing his sword rushed
at Schmit, who had no arms. The marker, a sturdy young fellow, caught
hold of d'Ache round the body, and thus prevented murder. The Swiss went
out, saying,

"We shall see each other again."

The rascally Frenchman cooled down, and said to me,

"Now, you see, we are quits."

"Very much quits."

"That's all very well; but, by God! you might have prevented the insult
which has dishonoured me."

"I might have done so, but I did not care to interfere. You are strong