“Allez, messieurs!”
At the word Allez, or, in English, go, and without waiting for the term Messieurs that followed, instantly Barouffski lunged. His foil pierced Verplank in the cheek and touched the upper jaw.
Verplank had a vision of a footman peering from a window, a taste of something hot and acrid in his mouth, a sense of pain, the sensation of vulperine fury.
De Fresnoy’s face had grown red as his neckcloth. He brandished his stick.
“Monsieur!” he cried at Barouffski. “Your conduct is odious. You shall answer to me for it.”
Barouffski bowed. “For the expression which it has pleased you to employ, you shall answer to me.”
“Permit me! Permit me!” Tyszkiewicz interjected. “To what do you object?”
Angrily de Fresnoy turned at him. “Your principal drew before the order. He——”
“Permit me! Permit me!” Tyszkiewicz interrupted. “The word Allez is an order. The moment it is uttered hostilities begin. The term Messieurs is but a polite accessory, a term which may or may not be employed.”
Insolently de Fresnoy considered him. “I have no lessons to receive from you.”