You--if you can spell the alphabet. DIDIER (_rising_). It is the edict threatening duelists With gallows, be they nobles or plebeians. SAVERNY. No, you mistake, my friend. You ought to know A nobleman was never born to hang, And in this world, where we claim all our rights, Plebeians are the gallows' only prey. [_To the noblemen._ These commoners are rude. [_To Didier, with malice._] You don't read well; Perhaps you are near-sighted. Lift your hat, 'Twill give you more light. Take it off. DIDIER (_overthrowing the table which is in front of him_). Beware! You have insulted me! I've read for you; I claim my recompense! I'll have it, too! I want your blood, I want your head, Marquis! SAVERNY (_smiling_). We must be fitted to our station, sir. I judge him commoner, he scents marquis In me. DIDIER. Marquis and commoner can fight. What do you say to mixing up our blood? SAVERNY. You go too fast, and fighting is not all. I am Gaspard, Marquis de Saverny. DIDIER. What does that matter? SAVERNY. Here my seconds are! The Count de Gassé, noble family, And Count de Villac, family La Teuillade, From which house comes the Marquis d'Aubusson. Are you of noble blood? DIDIER. What matters that? I am a foundling left at a church door. I have no name; but in its place, I've blood, To give you in exchange for yours! SAVERNY. That, sir, Is not enough; but as a foundling, you May claim the right, because you might be noble. It is a better thing to lift a vassal Than to degrade a peer. You may command me! Choose your hour, sir. DIDIER. Immediately! SAVERNY. Agreed! You're no usurper, that is clear. DIDIER. A sword! SAVERNY. You have no sword? The devil! that is bad. You might be thought a man of low descent. Will you have mine? [_Offers his sword to Didier._ Well tempered and obedient! [_L'ANGELY rises, draws his sword and presents it to Didier._ L'ANGLEY. No; for a foolish deed, you'd better take A fool's sword! You are brave! You'll honor it! [_Maliciously._] And in return, to bring me luck, pray let Me cut a piece from off the hanging-rope! DIDIER (_bitterly, taking sword_). I will. [_To The Marquis._ Now God have mercy on the good! BRICHANTEAU (_jumping with delight_). A duel--excellent! SAVERNY (_to Didier)._ Where shall we fight? DIDIER. Beneath the street-lamp. GASSÉ. Gentlemen, you're mad! You cannot see. You'll put your eyes out. DIDIER. Humph! There's light enough to cut each other's throat. SAVERNY. Well said! VILLAC. You can see nothing. DIDIER. That's enough! Each sword is lightning flashing in the dark. Come, Marquis!