.

SWORDS!.
La Fosse led the way with me, his arm through mine, swearing that he would be my second.

He had such a stomach for a fight, had this irresponsible, irrepressible rhymester, that it mounted to the heights of passion with him, and when I mentioned, in answer to a hint dropped in connection with the edict, that I had the King's sanction for this combat, he was nearly mad with joy.
"Blood of La Fosse!" was his oath.

"The honour to stand by you shall be mine, my Bardelys! You owe it me, for am I not in part to blame for all this ado?
Nay, you'll not deny me.

That gentleman yonder, with the wild-cat moustaches and a name like a Gascon oath--that cousin of Mironsac's, I mean--has the flair of a fight in his nostrils, and a craving to be in it.