omrades cried out--

"Antoine is running away!"

Two of the best runners immediately started in pursuit, and the
fugitive, notwithstanding his start, was speedily overtaken, seized by
his collar, and brought back as a deserter.

"Where were you going?" the others demanded.

"Home to my cousins," replied the boy; "there is no harm in that."

"You canting sneak!" said another boy, putting his fist under the
captive's chin; "you were going to the master to tell of us."

"Pierre," responded Antoine, "you know quite well I never tell lies."

"Indeed!--only this morning you pretended I had taken a book you had
lost, and you did it because I kicked you yesterday, and you didn't dare
to kick me back again."

Antoine lifted his eyes to heaven, and folding his arms on his breast--

"Dear Buttel," he said, "you are mistaken; I have always been taught to
forgive injuries."

"Listen, listen! he might be saying his prayers!" cried the other boys;
and a volley of offensive epithets, enforced by cuffs, was hurled at the
culprit.

Pierre Buttel, whose influence was great, put a stop to this onslaught.

"Look here, Antoine, you are a bad lot, that we all know; you are a
sneak and a hypocrite. It's time we put a stop to it. Take off your coat
and fight it out. If you like, we will fight every morning and evening
till the end of the month."

The proposition was loudly applauded, and Pierre, turning up his sleeves
as far as his elbows, prepared to suit actions to words.

The challenger assuredly did not realise the full meaning, of his words;
had he done so, this chivalrous defiance would simply have been an act
of cowardice on his part, for there could be no doubt as to the victor
in such a conflict. The one was a boy of alert and gallant bearing,
strong upon his legs, supple and muscular, a vigorous man in embryo;
while the other, not quite so old, small, thin, of a sickly leaden
complexion, seemed as if he might be blown away by a strong puff of
wind. His skinny arms and legs hung on to his body like the claws of a
spider, his fair hair inclined to red, his white skin appeared nearly
bloodless, and the consciousness of weakness made him timid, and gave a
shifty, uneasy look to his eyes. His whole expression was uncertain, and
looking only at his face it was difficult at first sight to decide to
which sex he belonged. This confusion of two natures, this indefinable
mixture of feminine weakness without grace, and of abortiv