"
"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.
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