A glance at him filled me with instinctive disgust.
"What's up, Alexis?" was his greeting. "That prig Essaieff, has just told me you're in a devil of a funny mood, and thinks you're about out of your mind with fear. What the devil have you done to yourself?" He touched his chin as he spoke.
"Can't I be shaved without setting you all cackling with curiosity? I had half my hair burnt off and shaved the other half." He started at my surly tone and I saw in his eyes a reflection of the other man's thoughts.
"D'ye think you'll be a smaller mark for Devinsky's sword? It's made a devil of a difference in your looks, I must say. And in your manners too." I heard him mutter this last sentence into his moustache.
"Do you think I mean for an instant to allow that bully's sword to touch me?" I asked scowling angrily.
"Well, you thought so last night when I was giving you that wrinkle with the foils—and that was certainly why you got this infernal duel put off for a day."
"Ah, well, I've been fooling you, that's all," said I, shortly. "I've played the fool long enough too, and I mean business. I've taken out a patent." I laughed grimly.
"What the devil d'ye mean? What patent?"
"A new sword stroke. The sabre stroke, I call it. Every first-rank swordsman has one," I cried boastfully.
"First-rank swordsman be hanged. Why, you can't hold a candle to me. And I would not stand before Devinsky's weapon for the promise of a colonelcy. Don't be an ass."