"Oh! oh! That cursed grip again! Ah! it is the very same, I recognize it! You are the mechanic of the Place de Grève; you are the Bohemian of the Loup de Mer!"
"Search your memory—it is possible that I am still another person."
"Yes—those eyes, that expression! Ten thousand devils! it is the face of the Comte de Carvajal, the noble guest of Dame Cadichard! But whoever you may be, double, triple, or quadruple! even though you be the devil in person—if you are a man of heart, you will give me satisfaction like a gallant champion, sword in hand!"
"Ah! you wish to measure swords with me, do you, chevalier? Very good! it shall be as you wish. On guard!—Have no fear, my girl! it is a matter of an instant."
As he spoke, the pretended bourgeois drew from beneath his cloak a short sword with a broad blade. Meanwhile, Passedix had drawn Roland from the scabbard; but when he saw his adversary's weapon, he paused and exclaimed:
"What in the devil do you expect to do with that little cutlass against my noble blade? Sandis! I have too great an advantage over you!"
"Let not that deter you, chevalier, but try to hold your long sword more firmly in your hand this time."
With that, the stranger attacked Roland with such vigor and dexterity, that in less than two minutes the long sword went flying through the air, and Passedix, stepping back, put his foot in a hole, fell over, and rolled at the feet of his adversary, who placed the point of his short sword against the prostrate man's breast, saying:
"Well! do you think that my little cutlass is worthy to measure itself against your illustrious blade?"
"I cannot understand it! You have a way of fighting that bewilders one! deceives one! Sandis! it is impossible; it must be that I have the gout in my right hand!—But, no matter! I am vanquished! Strike!"