"Oh! mon Dieu! you wouldn't have known anything about it. The women do so many things that we don't know! But a certain uncle made his appearance--a gentleman who doesn't joke, and who hasn't an amiable manner every day. He dragged his nephew away, deaf to his prayers and lamentations--and poor Gustave had to go, without a sight of his faithless Fanny.--I beg your pardon, but that's the expression he always used in speaking of madame your wife; and that is why that exclamation escaped me last night, when I saw her on your arm. Now you know the whole story. Faith! here we are; see, this is the board fence about the vacant lot. We can go in here; there's a solution of continuity. Not so much as a cat, inside or out; this is delightful. You can get the swords from your servant." Monleard, having taken the swords from his groom, ordered him to stay by the cabriolet; then he and Cherami entered the vacant lot, which had been made ready for building, but as yet contained nothing but stone. They soon reached a spot where there was nothing to embarrass them; there they removed their coats and stood at guard. By the way in which Cherami stood, the young dandy saw at once that he had to do with an expert fencer; and, as he was himself well skilled in the use of the sword, he was not sorry to meet an adversary worthy of his steel. But after one or two passes, one or two deftly parried attacks, Monleard realized that he had before him an antagonist of the first order; and that he must needs exert his utmost talent and strength to gain the advantage. He had expected to have done with his opponent in a few thrusts; his self-esteem was touched by the necessity of defending himself. He attacked with an impetuosity which sometimes made him forget to be prudent; and Cherami, who fought as coolly as if he were playing shuttlecock, said to him from time to time: "Take care, you are making mistakes, you'll run on my sword, you strike down too much! I give you warning; it won't be my fault. Ah! what did I tell you?" Monleard, attacking awkwardly, had received a thrust in the arm, and the wound was so painful that he had to drop his sword. "Enough, I am beaten!" said the young man, struggling to conceal his suffering. "But you are a skilful fencer, monsieur." "Yes, I am somewhat expert with the foils. Wait a moment; let me take your handkerchief and bind up the wound, to stop the blood. Then we'll make a sling with your black silk cravat." "I am extremely obliged, monsieur; a thousand pardons for the trouble I am causing you." "Why, between honorable men, this is the way it should always be: when the fight's over, shake hands. It's a pity the sword went in so far, or we might have breakfasted together." "Oh! I am forced to admit that that would be quite impossible."