He too felt wrath inside, but he retained all the presence of mind for which he afterward became famous.
"Shall we go out and see more of the city, Tayoga ?" he asked.
"Not until I have had a word with you, young sprig of a Bostonnais," said de Mezy, his florid face now almost a flaming red.
"Your pardon, sir," said Robert, with his uncommon fluency of speech, "I have not the advantage of your acquaintance, which, no doubt, is my loss, as I admit that there are many good and brave men whom I do not know." "I am Jean de Mezy, a count of France, a captain in the army of King Louis, and one of the most valued friends of our able Intendant, Francois Bigot." "I have heard of France, of course, I have heard, equally of course, of His Majesty, King Louis, I have even heard of the Intendant, Francois Bigot, but, and sorry I am to say it, I have never heard of the Count Jean de Mezy." A low laugh came from a distant corner of the room, and the red of de Mezy's face turned to purple.

His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, but Le Moyne whispered to him and he became more collected.
"In Quebec," he said, throwing back his shoulders and raising his chin, "an officer of His Majesty, King Louis, does not accept an insult.

We preserve our honor with the edge of our swords, and for that reason I intend to let a good quantity of the hot blood out of you with mine.
There is a good place near the St.Louis gate, and the hour may be as early as you wish." "He is but a boy," interposed Willet.
"But I know the sword," said Robert, who had made up his mind, and who was measuring his antagonist.

"I will meet you tomorrow morning just after sunrise with the small sword, and my seconds will confer with yours tonight." He stood up that they might see his size.

Although only a boy in years, he was as large and strong as de Mezy, and his eyes were clearer and his muscles much firmer.