"My nose is too small, my lad, and you haven't light enough to see it."

"Come under the 'hanging glim'[4] there."

[4] Under the lamp, called _reverbere_.

"That I will," replied the unknown, "for then we may look into the
whites of each other's eyes."

He then made a desperate rush at the Chourineur, whom he still held by
the throat, and forced him to the end of the alley, and then thrust him
violently into the street, which was but dimly lighted by the suspended
street-lamp. The bandit stumbled; but, rapidly recovering his feet, he
threw himself furiously upon the unknown, whose slim and graceful form
appeared to belie the possession of the irresistible strength he had
displayed. After a struggle of a few minutes, the Chourineur, although
of athletic build, and a first-rate champion in a species of pugilism
vulgarly termed the _savate_, found that he had got what they call his
master. The unknown threw him twice with immense dexterity, by what is
called, in wrestling, the leg-pass, or crook. Unwilling, however, to
acknowledge the superiority of his adversary, the Chourineur, boiling
with rage, returned again to the charge. Then the defender of La
Goualeuse, suddenly altering his mode of attack, rained on the head and
face of the bandit a shower of blows with his closed fist, as hard and
heavy as if stricken by a steel gauntlet. These blows, worthy of the
admiration of Jem Belcher, Dutch Sam, Tom Cribb, or any other celebrated
English pugilist, were so entirely different from the system of the
_savate_, that the Chourineur dropped like an ox on the pavement,
exclaiming, as he fell, "I'm floored!" (_Mon linge est lave!_)

"_Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_ Have pity on him!" exclaimed La Goualeuse, who,
during the contest, had ventured on the threshold of the alley, adding,
with an air of astonishment, "But who are you, then? Except the
Schoolmaster and Skeleton, there is no one, from the Rue Saint Eloi to
Notre Dame, who can stand against the Chourineur. I thank you very, very
much, sir, for, indeed, I fear that, without your aid, he would have
beaten me."

The unknown, instead of replying, listened with much attention to the
voice of this girl. Perhaps a tone more gentle, sweet, and silvery never
fell on human ear. He endeavoured to examine the features of La
Goualeuse; but the night was too dark, and the beams of the street-lamp
too flickering and feeble. After remaining for some minutes quite
motionless, the Chourineu