“Agreed,” replied Regnard.
He opened a cabinet in the room, took out several swords, and, handing them to Gaston, said:
“Choose which one you will die by.”
Gaston selected one.
“With this will I kill you,” he said.
Neither of them had seen me, although I was in evidence plain enough. I started forward, however, and grasping Gaston’s arm, forced him to look at me.
“Babache,” he said, recognizing me instantly. “The world is not big enough for my brother and for me. It is better to end it now and here. Either let him kill me, or let me kill him; so I pray you, hands off; and if I am the one to die, take care of Francezka.”
I thought, too, that the world could not and ought not to hold them both living, and the sooner it was settled which should die that night, the better.
Francezka, meanwhile, sat quite still in the chair where she had been placed. Gaston, turning to her, said, with an air of gentle command: