Now, Peter, I've made up my mind that I'll run that fellow through the body, and so I will, as sure as I am an O'Brien." "Well, I hope you will; but pray do not be too sure." "It's feeling sure that will make me able to do it, Peter.

By the blood of the O'Briens! didn't he slap me with his sword, as if I were a clown in the pantomime.

Peter, I'll kill the harlequin scoundrel, and my word's as good as my bond!" By this time we had arrived at the ground.

The French lieutenant stripped to his shirt and trousers; O'Brien did the same, kicking his boots off, and standing upon the wet grass in his stockings.

The swords were measured, and handed to them; they took their distance, and set to.
I must say, that I was breathless with anxiety; the idea of losing O'Brien struck me with grief and terror.