"Another time I told you to feign a quarrel with one of your friends, so as to draw a crowd together in the street in order to stop the chair of a young woman to whom someone wished to speak; but after two or three blows had passed you ran away." "Ah, my friend, but that does not detract from my bravery. I knew that the quarrel was only pretended; despite that, at the third blow I felt the blood mount to my face, and I ran away for fear of getting angry." "This time I hope you will conduct yourself better." "Speak, if you have need of my valor." "No, thank God, I shan't have to put your valor to the proof; the matter is very simple and will not cost you a great effort of genius." "So much the worse; I swear by Rolande that I feel disposed to brave every terror.--Take care, my friend; your razor almost touched my nose; you will end by taking off a piece, and that would destroy the charm of my physiognomy." "Fear nothing, most valorous Chaudoreille; I will respect your face; it would be a pity to spoil it." "Yes, most assuredly; it would cause tears to more than one great lady who deigns to look with favor upon your humble servant." "Those great ladies would do well if they gave you another doublet, for yours has well earned its retirement." "My dear fellow, love doesn't pause for such trifles; I please with or without a doublet; the figure is everything, and I'm more than a match for many a chevalier covered with tinsel and gewgaws; besides, if I wished to have some lace or cuffs or trinkets, I should not have to give more than a smile for them. Ah, by Jove!--Take care there, my brave Touquet. See! your neighbor's dog is going to take my ruff. Ah, the rogue! he's holding it in his chops." "You must take it away from him." "That's very easy for you to say. That cursed dog bites everybody." Chaudoreille got up, half shaved, and ran and took his sword, which he drew from the scabbard; but during this time the dog had left the shop, carrying off the ruff, and the boastful chevalier pursued him into the street, crying,-- "My ruff! Zounds, my ruff! Stop thief!" The shouts of Chaudoreille made the dog run more quickly, and the passers-by looked on with astonishment at the half-dressed man, with one cheek shaven and the other covered with soap, who ran, sword in hand, crying, "Stop thief!" The idlers gathered--for there were idlers as early as 1632--and followed Chaudoreille, that they might see the end of the adventure. The children stoned the dog, which redoubled its speed, passed through an alleyway and disappeared from Chaudoreille's sight. The latter, who could do no more, stopped at length, heaving a big sigh. His anger was redoubled when he saw everybody looking and laughing at him; he swore then, but so low that nobody could hear him; and, making the best of his way through the crowd which surrounded him, he sadly regained the barber's house.