“I flatter myself that such is the case,” retorted Bach, emitting in turn a great cloud of tobacco-smoke.
“If I were free,” said Trenck, “I might, perhaps, prove to you in short order that such is not the case.”
“Do you claim to be my master at that art?”
“I flatter myself that such is the case.”
“That we shall soon see,” cried Bach, flushing with rage.
“How can we? I am disarmed and a prisoner.”
“Ah, yes, you make your claim out of sheer boastfulness, because you think we cannot put it to the test!”
“Truly, lieutenant, set me at liberty and I swear to you that on the other side of the frontier we will put our skill to the test as freely as you like!”
“Well, I am unwilling to wait for that. We will fight here, Baron Trenck.”
“In this room?”