Those were his very
words: 'Why don't we fall on these scoundrels, sword in hand.'"
"It is so much simpler than lawmaking," said Andre-Louis.
"Lagron, the deputy from Ancenis in the Loire, said something that
we did not hear in answer. As he was leaving the Manege one of
these bullies grossly insulted him. Lagron no more than used his
elbow to push past when the fellow cried out that he had been
struck, and issued his challenge. They fought this morning early
in the Champs Elysees, and Lagron was killed, run through the
stomach deliberately by a man who fought like a fencing-master,
and poor Lagron did not even own a sword. He had to borrow one to
go to the assignation."
Andre-Louis - his mind ever on Vilmorin, whose case was here
repeated, even to the details - was swept by a gust of passion.
He clenched his hands, and his jaws set. Danton's little eyes
observed him keenly.
"Well? And what do you think of that? Noblesse oblige, eh? The
thing is we must oblige them too, these --s. We must pay them back
in the same coin; meet them with the same weapons.
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