No one was tempted to hiss the piece, and everybody had his money's worth.
Precisely at nine o'clock, the combatants entered the lists, attended by their four seconds and the umpire of the field.

Fougas, naked to the waist, was as handsome as a young god.

His lithe and agile figure, his proud and radiant features, the manly grace of his movements, assured him a flattering reception.

He made his English horse caper, and saluted the lookers-on with the point of his sword.
M.du Marnet, a man rather of the German type, hardy, quite hairy, moulded like the Indian Bacchus, and not like Achilles, showed in his countenance a slight shade of disgust.

It was not necessary to be a magician to understand that this duel _in naturalibus_, under the eyes of his own officers, appeared to him useless and even ridiculous.