Robinson Crusoe hitched his gun, as though he was about to "let fly" at the invader of his solitudes.
"I demand your name, sir."
"And I don't mean to give it."
"But give it you shall, sir, by ——."
"It is plain you understand catching rabbits and dressing their skins better than conversing with gentlemen," said the stranger, as with a supercilious smile he turned away.
"Stay, sir," cried the old gentleman, peremptorily, "or I shall slip my dog upon you."
"If you do, I'll shoot him."
"You have insulted me, sir. You wear a couteau de chasse—so do I. Destiny condemns the Visconte de Charrebourg to calamity, but not to insult. Draw your sword."
"The Visconte de Charrebourg!" echoed Dubois, in amazement.
"Yes, sir—the Visconte de Charrebourg, who will not pocket an affront because he happens to have lost his revenues."