“‘I did,’ said the baron; ‘I, who am all that there is of amiable. Yes, I lost my temper.’ He stood up as he went on. ‘I said it was uncivilized, that it was no jest, but a grave matter. Mon Dieu! That man, he told me that we fought with knitting-needles, that our duels were baby-play—me—me—he said that to me! What could I reply? I said I should ask him to retract. That man laughed—à faire peur—the room shook. Then he said to excuse him, it was—so what he called “damn nonsense.” I think, colonel, I am correct? What means that, M. Greville—damn nonsense?’
“‘English for very interesting,’ said I, not wishing to aggravate the situation.
“‘Ah, thanks,’ said Aramis. ‘This American he was pleasant of a sudden, and would be happy to hear from us all. He did regret that I came third, but that after he had killed you and the baron he would be most happy to kill me. Mon Dieu! we shall see. It remains to await his friends. I shall kill him.’
“‘Pardon me,’ said the baron; ‘he belongs to me.’
“Meanwhile the count’s face was a study. What it cost him not to explode into laughter I shall never guess except by my knowledge of the internal convulsions of my own organs of mirth. But Athos—I like him. He said at last very quietly: ‘Here, gentlemen, are three duels—a fair morning’s work. May I ask you, M. Greville, if you know Captain Merton? I mean well.’”
“Lord, what a chance! What did you say?”
“I saw what he meant, and said you were a captain in our army, had been twice wounded, and were here to recruit your health; that you were of first force with the rifle and revolver, but knew nothing of the small sword.
“The baron’s shoulders were lifted and he spread out huge hands of disgust. ‘But these weapons are impossible. Only a semi-civilized people could desire to employ the weapons of savages.’