Denot had no other arms about him but his dagger, and that he drew, as he advanced towards the boy.
"No daggers--I will have no daggers," shouted Santerre.

"Sergeant, take the dagger from him, unless he puts it up." "Beware the switch, thou traitor! beware the switch, thou knave!" continued the Chevalier, shaking the stick at Denot, upon whose arm the strong hand of the sergeant, who had returned to the room, was now laid heavily.
"I will choke the brat as I would an adder," said Denot, attempting to shake off the sergeant's hand.

"There, take the dagger," and he dropped it on the ground, and rushing at the boy, got inside the swing of his stick, and made a grasp at his throat.

Arthur, however, was too quick for him, and pushing away his hand, fastened his own arms round his adversary.

They were now close locked in each other's embrace, and kicking, plunging, and striving, each did his best to throw the other to the ground.
"Oh! Sir, kind Sir, for mercy's sake separate them!" said Agatha, appealing to Santerre; "he is but a boy, a child, and that wretched man is mad.