Men would come to point out where de Mezy had sat, and
where the young Bostonnais had sat, and to recount the words that each
had said. And then the red wine and the white wine would flow freely.
Oh, yes, the affair was managing itself very well indeed, and the
thrifty Monsieur Berryer rubbed his hands together with satisfaction.
"We have beds here at the Inn of the Eagle," said Robert coolly--he was
growing more and more the master of speech; "you can send your seconds
this evening to see mine, and they will arrange everything, although I
tell you now that I choose small swords. I hope my choice suits you."
"It is what I would have selected myself," said de Mezy, giving his
antagonist a stare of curiosity. Such coolness, such effrontery, as he
would have called it, was not customary in one so young, and in an
American too, because Americans did not give much attention to the study
of the sword. New thoughts raced through his head. Could it be possible
that here, where one least expected it, was some marvelous swordsman, a
phenomenon? Did that account for his indifference? A slight shudder
passed over the frame of Jean de Mezy, who loved his dissolute life.
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