"Let go!" he yelled once more.
"Let go that knife."
The knife dropped from his fingers. Duco grasped it and rose to his feet:
"Get up," he said. "We can continue this fight, if you like, to-morrow, under less primitive conditions: not with a knife, but with swords or pistols."
The prince stood panting, blue in the face.... When he came to himself, he said, slowly:
"No, I will not fight a duel. Unless you want to. But I don't. I am defeated. She has a demoniacal force which would always make you win, whatever game we played. We've had our duel. This struggle tells me more than a regular duel would. Only, if you want to fight me, I have no objection. But I now know for certain that you would kill me. She protects you."
"I don't want to fight a duel with you," said Duco.
"Then let us look on this struggle as a duel and now give me your hand."
Duco put out his hand; Gilio pressed it:
"Forgive me," he said, bowing before Cornélie.