Good-bye to Amanda," etc.

The silence to which Dagobert had condemned himself, almost choked him;
this song afforded him some relief.

Morok, turning towards the spectators, said to them, with an air of
hypocritical restraint: "We knew that the soldiers of Napoleon were
pagans, who stabled their horses in churches, and offended the Lord a
hundred times a day, and who, for their sins, were justly drowned in the
Beresino, like so many Pharaohs; but we did not know that the Lord, to
punish these miscreants, had deprived them of courage--their single gift.
Here is a man, who has insulted, in me, a creature favored by divine
grace, and who affects not to understand that I require an apology; or
else--"

"What?" said Dagobert, without looking at the Prophet.

"Or you must give me satisfaction!--I have already told you that I have
seen service. We shall easily find somewhere a couple of swords, and to
morrow morning, at peep of day, we can meet behind a wall, and show the
color of our blood--that is, if you have any in your veins!"

This challenge began to frighten the spectators, who were not prepared
for so tragical a conclusion.

"What, fight?--a very, fine idea!" said one. "To get yourself both locked
up in prison: the laws against duelling are strict."

"Particularly with relation to strangers or nondescripts," added another.
"If they were to find you with arms in your hands, the burgomaster would
shut you up in jail, and keep you there two or three months before
trial."

"Would you be so mean as to denounce us?" asked Morok.

"No, certainly not," cried several; "do as you like. We are only giving
you a friendly piece of advice, by which you may profit, if you think
fit."

"What care I for prison?" exclaimed the Prophet. "Only give me a couple
of swords, and you shall see to-morrow morning if I heed what the
burgomaster can do or say."

"What would you do with two swords?" asked Dagobert, quietly.

"When you have one in your grasp, and I one in mine, you'd see. The Lord
commands us to have a care of his honor!"

Dagobert shrugged his shoulders, made a bundle of his linen in his
handkerchief, dried his soap, and put it carefully into a little oil-silk
bag--then, whistling his favorite air of Tirlemont, moved to depart.

The Prophet frowned; he began to fear that his challenge would not be
accepted. He advanced a step or so to encounter Dagobert, placed himself
before him, as if to intercept his passag