Tall, lithe, and athletic, he stood to face the no less tall, but very delicate and frail, M.de Vilmorin.

The latter also disdained to make any of the usual preparations.

Since he recognized that it could avail him nothing to strip, he came on guard fully dressed, two hectic spots above the cheek-bones burning on his otherwise grey face.
M.de Chabrillane, leaning upon a cane--for he had relinquished his sword to M.de Vilmorin--looked on with quiet interest.

Facing him on the other side of the combatants stood Andre-Louis, the palest of the four, staring from fevered eyes, twisting and untwisting clammy hands.
His every instinct was to fling himself between the antagonists, to protest against and frustrate this meeting.

That sane impulse was curbed, however, by the consciousness of its futility.