"What is this? Is Madame Dauberny one of your seconds?"
"Yes, monsieur," replied Frédérique, with dignity; "for if Charles and his friend do not avenge me, then I will avenge myself."
Saint-Bergame indulged in mocking laughter, and Monsieur Fouvenard deemed it fitting to join him.
"Ha! ha!" he said; "a woman for second! Why, this is charming! I would be glad to cross swords with the lady myself."
"Well! so you shall, if you're not a coward," retorted Frédérique, offering him one of her foils.
He was still pleased to jest and draw back, saying:
"Nonsense! I would with pleasure, if it were a fan; but a foil—my dear lady, you wouldn't know how to handle that!"
"Indeed! I shouldn't know how to handle it?"
As she spoke, Frédérique laid her foil across Fouvenard's face, leaving a red mark which seemed to cut it in two. The bearded man flew into a rage; he seized the weapon she offered him, exclaiming:
"I no longer recognize your sex, and I will not spare you."