"With you, or after you. I would not have it said that I drew my sword on an unarmed man," answered his antagonist. "Don't provoke me, Ráby! I tell you we will have it out here." "Well, draw then!" Petray thus urged, endeavoured to draw his sword in earnest from his belt, but that otherwise excellent weapon had never been used since the last Prussian war, and stuck so fast in its sheath that the most powerful tugs quite failed to move it. Come out it would not. Mr. Petray pulled and tugged to no avail; the blade would not yield an inch. "Good heavens," cried Ráby impatiently, "hand it over to me, I will make it come out." And hereupon the two opponents pulled away with might and main at the refractory weapon; Ráby seizing the sheath, and Petray the handle, indulged in a very tug-of-war, but to no purpose; the sword stuck where it was, and did not budge, while the two adversaries were bathed in perspiration with their unavailing efforts. Had anyone ever seen such an absurd struggle? Petray was foaming with rage. "Deuce take the thing! If you want to come to grips, let's fight it out with our fists! There I can be sure of my resources. I'll smash you up, I promise you, so there won't be anything left of you." "All right," retorted Ráby, and lifting up the sleeve of his dolman, he put himself into a boxer's attitude, and struck Petray two ringing blows with his bare muscular arm, that sent his opponent fairly reeling from sheer astonishment. Now the judge set great store by his appearance. He therefore reflected that by such methods as these, his enraged antagonist might end in breaking his nose, or knocking out his teeth, and these were both contingencies to be avoided. "Ah, leave me in peace," he cried piteously. "I am no boxer, I am a judge, a man of the law. If you have anything to bring against me, let it be at the tribunal, I'll meet you there fast enough. But I will neither fence, nor shoot, nor box on your wife's account. If you think I am the first whom your wife has fooled, I am not, by a long way. If you want to fight, look up Captain Lievenkopp--he lives out yonder at Zsámbék. You have a bigger score to settle with him than with me, if you did but know it. He's ready for either swords or pistols. As judge, it's my duty to hinder a fight, not to promote it by myself taking part in one. Go to the tribunal, and I'll give you satisfaction there fast enough." He spoke rapidly, but Ráby did not wait to hear the end. He clapped his hat on, and jumped into his coach, and cried to the driver to drive to Zsámbék. CHAPTER XIX. Ráby only reached Zsámbék the next morning. The dragoon-captain's house he found without any difficulty, for it stood close to the post-station. There were two other officers with the captain, and three horses stood ready saddled in the courtyard. They were evidently on the point of starting for some expedition, though there was no sign of soldiers going with them.