"Fix your ground," was the reply.
"No to-morrows!" said the officer who had received the blow; "this instant!"
"This instant be it, if you please," replied Alfonso with the utmost indifference.
"I shall not sleep to-night till that blow is avenged!" said the other, foaming with rage.
"I, too, want to unnumb my hand. I have hurt my knuckles against your cheek-bones," said Alfonse.
"Where would they fight at such a time of night as this?" observed some of the officers.
"In the garden behind the café," cried the ancient maître d'armes; "a sword in one hand, and a billiard-lamp in the other."
"But," said Alfonse, "I am tired. I know your style of fighting men, Crane; you want to make me break ground, and drive me step by step round the garden. Don't think it, my lad. Besides, the lamp may go out. But, if you have no objection, the billiard-table will be a good arena. We shall be well lighted, and there will be no means of drawing back a foot.
"Be it so," said the other.