"Well, I am sure he is not.

So it's a fight then ?" "Yes, it is a fight.

But I shall beat you, Monsieur Frederic Larsan." "Youth never doubts anything," said the great Fred laughingly, and held out his hand to me by way of conclusion.
Rouletabille's answer came like an echo: "Not anything!" Suddenly Larsan, who had risen to wish us goodnight, pressed both his hands to his chest and staggered.

He was obliged to lean on Rouletabille for support, and to save himself from falling.
"Oh! Oh!" he cried.

"What is the matter with me ?--Have I been poisoned ?" He looked at us with haggard eyes.