Even then, with his hand already on the hilt of his
sword, he hesitated to draw till a roar, "En garde, fichtre! What do you
think you came here for?" and the rush of his adversary forced him to
put himself as quickly as possible in a posture of defence.
The clash of arms filled that prim garden, which hitherto had known no
more warlike sound than the click of clipping shears; and presently the
upper part of an old lady's body was projected out of a window upstairs.
She tossed her arms above her white cap, scolding in a cracked voice.
The gardener remained glued to the tree, his toothless mouth open in
idiotic astonishment, and a little farther up the path the pretty girl,
as if spellbound to a small grass plot, ran a few steps this way and
that, wringing her hands and muttering crazily. She did not rush between
the combatants: the onslaughts of Lieut. Feraud were so fierce that
her heart failed her. Lieut. D'Hubert, his faculties concentrated upon
defence, needed all his skill and science of the sword to stop the
rushes of his adversary.
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