Raoul had lost all control. The fury was upon him. Pierre forgot about his own pain and tried to throw himself between Raoul and Auguste. His chest hit Raoul's arm, hard as an iron bar.
"Let go of him, Raoul," Pierre said.
"Raoul, stop it!" Elysée shouted.
"All right." Raoul punched his fist into Auguste's chest and released him, sending the boy staggering backward to fall to the floor.
Rage blazed up inside Pierre. The sight of his son knocked to the floor swept away all constraint. To the Devil with trying to reason with Raoul. He rushed at Raoul and swung his arm with all his strength, bringing his palm against Raoul's mouth.
Though open-handed, it was a blow that would have knocked many a man down. Raoul only staggered back half a step.
But a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"You still fight like a Frenchman, Pierre," said Raoul with a grin, wiping his mouth. "Slapping a man. Think you're still a count or something? Fight like an American."
He lunged at Pierre. Pierre barely saw, out of the corner of his eye, the fist coming at him. A cannon went off at the side of his head.
He was on the floor, flat on his back.