The blade lacerated his fingers and his palm, but he did not let go till he had seized the sword at his feet with his right hand.

Then, springing up with it, he stepped back quickly and grasped his weapon fiercely enough now.
Yet, enraged as he was, he had no wish to fight; to involve himself in a fracas which might end in tragedy and the courts of the land.

It was a high price to pay for any satisfaction he might have in this affair.
If the Seigneur were killed in the encounter--he must defend himself now--what a miserable notoriety and possible legal penalty and public punishment! For who could vouch for the truth of his story?
Even if he wounded Racine only, what a wretched story to go abroad: that he had fought with a hunchback--a hunchback who knew the use of the sword, which he did not, but still a hunchback! "Stop this nonsense," he said, as Louis Racine prepared to attack again.
"Don't be a fool.

The game isn't worth the candle." "One of us does not leave this room alive," said the Seigneur.

"You care for life.