Jacques, red with anger and emulation as this was repeated, bounded back, and for ten minutes displayed all the resources of his wonderful agility--he flew like a tiger, twisted like a serpent, and bounded from right to left; but Chicot, with his calm air and his long arm, seized his time, and putting aside his adversary's sword, still sent his own to the same place, while Borromee grew pale with anger.

At last, Jacques rushed a last time on Chicot, who, parrying his thrust with force, threw the poor fellow off his equilibrium, and he fell, while Chicot himself remained firm as a rock.
"You did not tell us you were a pillar," said Borromee, biting his nails with vexation.
"I, a poor bourgeois!" said Chicot.
"But, monsieur, to manage a sword as you do, you must have practiced enormously." "Oh! mon Dieu! yes, monsieur, I have often held the sword, and have always found one thing."-- "What is that ?" "That for him who holds it, pride is a bad counselor and anger a bad assistant.

Now, listen, Jacques," added he: "you have a good wrist, but neither legs nor head; you are quick, but you do not reason.

There are three essential things in arms--first the head, then the hands and legs: with the one you can defend yourself, with the others you may conquer, but with all three you can always conquer." "Ah! monsieur," said Jacques, "try Brother Borromee; I should like to see it." "No," said the treasurer, "I should be beaten, and I would rather confess it than prove it." "How modest and amiable he is!" said Gorenflot.
"On the contrary," whispered Chicot, "he is stupid with vanity.

At his age I would have given anything for such a lesson," and he sat down again.
Jacques approached him, and admiration triumphing over the shame of defeat: "Will you give me some lessons, M.Briquet ?" said he; "the prior will permit it, will you not, your reverence ?" "With pleasure, my child." "I do not wish to interfere with your master," said Chicot, bowing to Borromee.
"Oh! I am not his only master," said he.