His saber rattled to the stone flooring.
Before he could recover the weapon the victor had put his foot upon it.
He was still smiling, as if the whole affair was a bit of pastime.
On his part the colonel's blood suddenly cooled.

This was no accident; this meddling peasant had at some time or other held a saber in his hand and knew how to use it famously well.

The colonel realized that he had played the fool nicely.
"My sword," he demanded, with as much dignity as he could muster.
"Will you sheathe it ?" the old man asked mildly.
"Since it is of no particular use," bitterly.
"I could have broken it half a dozen times.

Here, take it.

But be wise in the future, and draw it only in the right." The gall was bitter on the colonel's tongue, but his head was evenly balanced now.