"Father," cried Loysik, "do not kill this man in that manner!"
"I do not ask you for my life, Gallic dogs! Slaves! But I do not wish to go to hell! I ask the absolution of a priest!"
"Take this axe, Count Neroweg; we shall be equally armed; the combat between us is to be to the death."
"Father, in the name of your two sons, whom you have just saved, desist from this combat."
"My sons, this axe does not weigh heavy in my hands—I shall extinguish in this Frank the stock of the Nerowegs."
"I, a man of an illustrious family, do battle with a beggar, a Vagre, a revolted slave! No! I shall not bestow such an honor upon you, bastard dog—you may slay me."
"Seize him, and shave his head smooth like a slave. Shame upon the coward!"
"I, shaved like a vile slave! I, undergo such an outrage! I prefer to do battle with you, vile bandit; give me the axe!"
"Here it is, count. And you, my brave Vagres, widen the circle—and long live Gaul!"
Neroweg precipitated himself upon the Vagre; the combat was engaged; it was frightful, stubborn. Loysik, Ronan, little Odille and the bishopess followed trembling and with anxious eyes the events of the struggle. It did not last long. Karadeucq spoke truly. The axe did not weigh heavy in his vigorous hand; it swung in the air and fell with a crash upon the forehead of Neroweg, who rolled down upon the grass with his skull cleaved in twain.