"What do you mean, monsieur? My nephew fought no duel; that I know; I didn't leave him until the very moment of his departure."
"Well, I don't say that it was he who fought; it was I; but it amounts to the same thing."
"What! you fought a duel—you?"
"Just a little, nephew—I mean, uncle. Indeed, I administered to the young husband a very neat sword-thrust in the arm. However, he's a stout fellow; but he holds himself back too much in fencing; that's very dangerous."
"You fought with Monsieur Monléard?"
"Why, yes! what of it? You open your eyes like porte cochères! One would say that it was a most extraordinary thing!"
"But, monsieur, it's a horrible thing for you to have done! You have compromised that young woman, you have compromised my nephew, you have——"
"Sacrebleu! do you know that you make me tired! Where the devil did I get an uncle like this, who doesn't appreciate the services I have rendered his nephew?"
"A little less noise, monsieur, if you please!"
"Ah! you don't like that! Very good! but, no! You are Gustave's uncle; I cannot fight with you; it would grieve him. After all, my business isn't with you; and if that old baked apple out yonder had told me where I could find your nephew, you wouldn't have had a call from me. Tell me at once, and I'll make my bow."