"Once more I tell you, I will not pay! The throw was bad. You threw the dice with your left hand. I don't play with a left-handed——"
"Chevalier, you are trying to find a pretext for not paying. In the first place, I did not throw with my left hand; and in the second place, if I did, the throw would be perfectly fair."
"No; in that case, you are bound to notify your opponent."
"I did not play with my left hand!"
"Then I lie, do I?"
"Yes; and you are nothing but a blackleg!"
"Ah! by Roland! you shall pay dearly for that insult—you vile clodhopper!"
"Meanwhile, you are going to get what you deserve, you long-legged sharper who wanted to sup at our expense!"
As he spoke, that one of the tradesmen who had played with the Gascon put out his arm and rushed forward to strike him with his fist. But his opponent had anticipated the blow and jumped back quickly. As ill luck would have it, Cédrille had risen when he saw that the quarrel had become serious, and muttering: "I want to go away; I am not enjoying myself at all here!" received full in the face the blow intended for his friend. He uttered a cry of pain. Instantly Passedix whipped out his sword, and Roland's blade was directed at the shopkeeper, who had seized the pewter pot with which to defend himself.
But a new personage had entered the café and forced his way through the crowd that already surrounded the combatants.