The general's seconds presented the two swords to Benedict who had not previously seen them; he cast a quick glance at them and saw that they were _montées en quarte_, a circumstance which suited his designs admirably. Apparently it suited General Sturm's, also, since he had chosen the swords. "When is the fight to stop?" asked the seconds. "When one of us is killed," answered the two antagonists together. "Coats off, gentlemen!" said the seconds. Benedict threw aside his jacket and waistcoat, displaying his shirt. "Are you ready, gentlemen?" asked the seconds. "Yes," replied both at the same time. One of the Zouave officers took one sword and put it into Benedict's hands; one of the Prussian officers took the other and put it into General Sturm's hands. The seconds crossed the two swords at a distance of three inches from the points, and, moving aside to leave the combatants face to face, said: "Now, gentlemen!" The words were scarcely uttered when the general swiftly made himself master of his opponent's sword by a double engagement, making as he did so a stride forward with all the usual impetuosity of a man who knows himself an adept in fencing. Benedict leapt back; then, looking at the general's guard: "Ah, ah!" he murmured, "a quick fellow on his feet. Attention!" He exchanged a quick glance with his seconds, to tell them not to be uneasy. But at the same moment, and without any interval, the general, while entangling the sword by a skilful pressure advanced in a crouching attitude, and lunged with so rapid a _dégagement_ that it needed all Benedict's close handling to parry by a _counter quarte_, which, quick though it was, could not save his shoulder from a graze. The shirt tore upon the sword's point and became slightly tinged with blood. The return thrust came so swiftly that the Prussian by luck or by instinct had not time to resort to a circular parry and mechanically employed the _parade de quarte_ and was now on the defensive. The thrust was parried, but it had been given with such energy that General Sturm staggered on his legs and could not deliver his counter thrust. "He is a pretty fencer, after all," thought Benedict. "He gives one something to do." Sturm stepped back and lowered his point. "You are wounded," said he. "Come, come," returned the young man, "no nonsense! Here's a fuss about a scratch. You know very well, general, that I have got to kill you. One must keep one's word, even to a dead man." He put himself in position again. "You? Kill me! Upstart!" exclaimed the general. "Yes, I, greenhorn as you think me," replied Benedict. "Your blood for his, although all yours is not equal to one drop of his."