"In the first place, they are on the losing side; in the second, they are the lords of the soil; in the third, they live as free as air; and in the fourth, they have undoubtedly the right of the quarrel!" "Monsieur!" cried the Chasseurs, laying their hands on their swords, fiery as lions.

He looked indolently and wearily up from under the long lashes of his lids, and went on, as though they had not spoken.
"I will fight you all, if you like, as that worthy of yours, Rire-pour-tout, did, but I don't think it's worth while," he said carelessly, where he leaned over the marble table.

"Brawling's bad style; we don't do it.

I was saying, I like your foes best; mere matter of taste; no need to quarrel over it--that I see.

I shall go into their service or into yours, monsieur--will you play a game of dice to decide ?" "Decide ?--but how ?" "Why--this way," said the other, with the weary listlessness of one who cares not two straws how things turn.