[Footnote: A similar adventure is told of the renowned fabulist
La Fontaine. One day some one informed him that Poignan, a retired
captain of dragoons and one of his friends, was by far too intimate
with Madame La Fontaine, and that to avenge his dishonour he ought to
fight a duel with him. La Fontaine calls upon Poignan at four o'clock
in the morning, tells him to dress, takes him out of town, and then
coolly says "that he has been advised to fight a duel with him in order
to avenge his wounded honour." Soon La Fontaine's sword flies out of his
hand, the friends go to breakfast, and the whole affair is at an end.]

I will teach you, you rogue, to laugh at my expense, and to cuckold
people without showing them any respect. (_After going three or four
steps he comes back again_.) But gently, if you please, this man looks
as if he were very hot-headed and passionate; he may, perhaps, heaping
one insult upon another, ornament my back as well as he has done my brow.

[Footnote: In the original there is a play on words which cannot be
rendered in English. _Il pourrait bien ... charger de bois mon dos
comme, il a fait mort front_. _Bois_ means "stick" and "stags'
antlers."]

I detest, from the bottom of my heart, these fiery tempers, and vastly
prefer peaceable people. I do not care to beat for fear of being beaten;
a gentle disposition was always my predominant virtue: But my honour
tells me that it is absolutely necessary I should avenge such an outrage
as this. Let honour say whatever it likes, the deuce take him who
listens. Suppose now I should play the hero, and receive for my pains an
ugly thrust with a piece of cold steel quite through my stomach; when
the news of my death spreads through the whole town, tell me then, my
honour, shall you be the better of it.