"Yes, yes, hang him to the yardarm," said the English gentlemen; "we will have our explanations afterward."
"You will oblige me much by explaining yourselves beforehand!" cried Croustillac.
"He speaks! he dares to speak!" cried one.
"Eh! who, then, will speak in my favor, if not myself?" replied the Gascon. "Would it be you, by chance, my gentleman?"
"Gentlemen," cried De Chemerant, "Lord Mortimer is right in proposing that justice be done to this abominable impostor."
"He is wrong; I maintain that he is wrong, a hundred thousand times wrong!" cried Croustillac; "it is an obsolete, tame, vulgar means——"
"Be silent, unhappy wretch!" cried the athletic Mortimer, seizing the hands of the Gascon.
"Do not lay your hands on a gentleman, or, Sdeath! you shall pay dear for this outrage!" cried Croustillac angrily.
"Your sword, scoundrel!" said De Chemerant, while twenty raised arms threatened the adventurer.
"In fact, the lion can do nothing against an hundred wolves," said the Gascon majestically, giving up his rapier.