Metris (boiling over). This is far more than any gentleman can endure! (He stands before Boutroux with his left hand clenched behind his back, his right foot well advanced, and his sabre in tierce.) Now, sir.
Boutroux (very simply). Now! (Nothing happens.)
Metris. Sir, are you upon your guard?
Boutroux. More or less (jerking the horses). Garrup! (To Metris) Excuse me, sir, it seems that even in browsing grass this horse of mine has a devil of a hard mouth. He nearly sprained my wrist.... Well, then, are you upon your guard?
Metris (courteously). I am.
Boutroux (as in surprise). Oh, you are! (He gives a tremendous cut at the point of the neck, which his opponent skilfully parries and replies to by a thrust.) Never ... (rapidly parrying a sharp succession of thrusts that follow from his opponent) never ... thrust ... with a light cavalry sword.... I don't know much about (Ah, you missed that!)—much about ... this business. But—— (He suddenly gets round inside Metris' guard, but has the misfortune to cut with a spent blow into nothing better than cloth. They disengage.)
Metris. Sir, you play well enough for a man who is uninstructed, but I warn you you are depending upon luck.
Boutroux. I know that. Luckily for me my mind is divided, and I can form no plan. For these animals at the end of the snaffle-rein have nearly pulled my arm off. However, let us have a second bout. The great thing for men like me is not to plan too much. (Voices are heard through the fog.) Sir, let me warn you like a gentleman, though my father is but a grocer, and yours for all I know a Rouge Dragon, that I hear the voice of one who is most indubitably my Colonel. And talking of his profession, he was, at the outbreak of this regrettable campaign, a butcher in Toulouse. He is a very brutal man, but I will not detain you, for your time is short.
Metris. This is more than I will stand. (They engage, and Metris, whose blood is now up and who means business, gets Boutroux with a slash on the cheek at the third pass.)