"'Tirant, if you want to have peace with me, and if you want me to forgive you because of your youth, I'll do it--on condition that you hand over the bauble of that illustrious lady, Dona Agnes of Berri, to me, along with the knife and the paper shield so that I can show it to the ladies. Because you know very well that you're not worthy of having anything at all from such a lofty and virtuous lady as she is. Your station, lineage and condition aren't good enough even to allow you to take off her left slipper. They're not even enough to raise you to my rank; in fact, it was out of kindness that I decided to do combat with you.' "'Knight,' said Tirant, 'I'm not unaware of who you are, or what you can do. But this is not the time or place for us to discuss the merits of our lineages. I am Tirant lo Blanc: when a sword is in my hand, no king, duke, count, or marquis can deny me. That is known throughout the world. But anyone can easily find the seven capital sins in you. Let's go to battle and do what we came here for, and let's not go on with unnecessary and worthless words: if even one of my hairs fell to the ground, I wouldn't surrender it to you, much less allow you to pick it up.' "'Since you don't want to reach an agreement,' said the judge, 'do you want life or death?'" Lord Vilesermes said: "'I am very sorry about the death of this haughty young man. Let's go to battle, and let each one go back to his place.' "The judge got up on the cenotaph that had been made with branches, and he shouted: "'Go now, knights, and let each of you act like a valiant and good knight!' "They went at each other in a fury. The French knight carried his knife high, in front of his head, and Tirant held his just above his chest. When they were close to each other, the French knight struck hard at the middle of Tirant's head. Tirant parried and struck back, and he dealt him a blow on top of his ear that almost dug into his brain. The other man struck Tirant in the middle of his thigh, and the wound gaped about a handsbreadth. He quickly stabbed him again in his left arm, and the knife sunk in as far as the bone. They both fought so hard that it was dreadful. And they were so close to each other that with every swing they took they drew blood. It was a pitiful sight for anyone who saw the wounds of the two men: their shirts had become completely red from all the blood they lost. Jerusalem repeatedly asked the judge if he wanted him to make them stop fighting, and the cruel judge answered: "'Let them come to the end of their cruel days, since that's what they want.'