"Not at all, it is quite certain. I have not left him an excuse; and then it is that I display all my courtesy, in order to attain the happy issue of my project. I advance, therefore, with an air of great politeness, and, taking my adversary by the hand, I say to him: 'Now that you are convinced of having given the offense, we are sure of reparation; between my friend and yourself, the future can only offer an exchange of mutual courtesies of conduct, and, consequently, my mission is to give you the length of my friend's sword.'"
"What!" said Raoul.
"Wait a minute. 'The length of my friend's sword. My horse is waiting below; my friend is in such and such a spot, and is impatiently awaiting your agreeable society; I will take you with me; we can call upon your second as we go along;' and the affair is arranged."
"And so," said Raoul, pale with vexation, "you reconcile the two adversaries on the ground."
"I beg your pardon," interrupted Porthos. "Reconcile! What for?"
"You said that the affair was arranged."
"Of course! since my friend is waiting for him."
"Well! what then? If he is waiting—"
"Well! if he is waiting, it is merely to stretch his legs a little. The adversary, on the contrary, is stiff from riding; they place themselves in proper order, and my friend kills his opponent, and the affair is ended."
"Ah! he kills him, then?" cried Raoul.