The point of the dagger touched the neck and must have pricked the flesh, but only very slightly, for it was still held back by François' resistance.
Vorski bent lower. He stood over the fighters and did not take his eyes from the deadly point. Suddenly he took a pen-knife from his pocket, opened it and waited. A few more seconds elapsed. The dagger continued to descend. Then quickly he gashed Raynold's shoulder with the blade of his knife.
The boy uttered a cry of pain. His grip at once became relaxed; and, at the same time, François, set free, his right arm released, half rose, resumed the offensive and, without seeing Vorski or understanding what had happened, in an instinctive impulse of his whole being escaped from death and revolting against his adversary, struck him full in the face. Raynold in his turn fell like a log.
All this had certainly lasted no longer than ten seconds. But the incident was so unexpected and took Véronique so greatly aback that, not realizing, not knowing that she ought to rejoice, believing rather that she was mistaken and that the real François was dead, murdered by Vorski, the poor thing sank into a huddled heap and lost consciousness.
A long, long time elapsed. Then, gradually, Véronique became aware of certain sensations. She heard the clock strike four; and she said:
"It's two hours since François died. For it was he who died."
She had not a doubt that the duel had ended in this way. Vorski would never have allowed François to be the victor and his other son to be killed. And so it was against her own child that she had sent up wishes and for the monster that she had prayed!
"François is dead," she repeated. "Vorski has killed him."
The door opened and she heard Vorski's voice. He entered, with an unsteady gait: