In our first attack on him, at Poitiers, he got the better of us in a most wonderful way--we never saw the like of it--and all he had to fight with was a dull, rusty sword, not intended for use at all; a theatre sword, just for looks.

And when we tried to do for him here in Paris, the very night he got here, it all came to naught, because he was so watchful, and somehow suspected what we were up to, and was ready for us; and that upset our beautiful little plan entirely.

I never was so surprised in my life; and there was nothing for us to do, the whole four of us, but to get out of his sight as fast as we could, and he standing there laughing at us.

Oh! he's a rare one, is Captain Fracasse.

And now he knows my face, so I can't go near him myself.