To this inuendo I made no reply but by a kick on the breech, which overturned him in an instant.

He started up with wonderful agility, and, drawing his sword, attacked me with great fury.

Several people interposed, but, when he informed them of its being an affair of honour, they retired, and left us to decide the battle by ourselves.
I sustained his onset with little damage, having only received a small scratch on my right shoulder, and, seeing his breath and vigour almost exhausted, assaulted him in my turn, closed with him, and wrested his sword out of his hand in the struggle.

Having thus acquired the victory, I desired him to beg his life; to which demand he made no answer, but shrugged up his shoulders to his ears, expanded his hands, elevated the skin on his forehead and eyebrows, and depressed the corners of his mouth in such a manner, that I could scarce refrain from laughing aloud at his grotesque appearance.

That I might, however, mortify his vanity, which triumphed without bounds over my misfortune, I thrust his sword up to the hilt in something (it was not a tansy), that lay smoking on the plain, and joined the rest of the soldiers with an air of tranquillity and indifference.
There was nothing more of moment attempted by either of the armies during the remaining part of the campaign, which being ended, the English marched back to the Netherlands; part of our army was detached to French Flanders, and our regiment ordered into winter quarters in Champagne.