"Really, I am very condescending to answer you!" retorted Jéricourt, throwing himself back and swinging his legs. "Be off with you, monsieur; leave me in peace."
"I will be off, monsieur, but with you, I hope."
"Oh! that would be amusing! Faith, my dear monsieur, lose your temper if you choose, but I will not fight for a flower girl."
"Well! will you fight for this, monsieur?"
As he spoke, Roncherolle, who had left his seat and walked toward Jéricourt, struck him across the face with his glove.
The young man leaped from his chair, his face became livid, and he seemed to contemplate rushing upon Roncherolle; but the latter maintained such a calm and impassive attitude, while holding the prongs of a fork toward his adversary to keep him at a respectful distance, that Jéricourt contented himself with saying in a voice choked with wrath:
"That insult will cost you dear, monsieur!"
"I shall be enchanted to find out whether that is so, monsieur; and I propose that we finish this matter not later than to-morrow morning."
"Yes, monsieur; to-morrow, at nine o'clock in the morning, I will be in the woods, near Porte Saint-Mandé."
"I will be there at that time."