The youngster who had thrown the ball fled when he saw Cherami running toward him. But Cherami pursued him; while Monsieur Courbichon rubbed his legs, saying:
"This is the first time such a thing ever happened to me while I was watching the game; and it's the more surprising, because I wasn't in line with the pins. So it must have been done on purpose; but why should the fellow aim at my legs? I didn't make any comment on his play—I didn't have any dispute with him.—This will certainly leave a mark on my legs.—Where in the deuce has Monsieur Arthur gone? That man is too quick-tempered."
In a few minutes, Cherami returned, flushed and triumphant, crying:
"You are avenged, my dear Courbichon! yes, what anyone would call thoroughly avenged; the rascal has had what he deserved; and here's the proof."
As he spoke, he handed his new friend his beautiful cane broken in two.
Monsieur Courbichon was dumfounded, and gazed with an air of consternation at the pieces of the cane.
"Ah! mon Dieu!" he faltered; "it is broken!"
"True—it is broken; but I broke it on the back of the ragamuffin who threw his ball at your skittles—I mean, your legs."
"What a pity! You struck him too hard."
"One cannot strike an enemy too hard."