eves
as far as his elbows, prepared to suit actions to words.

The challenger assuredly did not realise the full meaning, of his words;
had he done so, this chivalrous defiance would simply have been an act of
cowardice on his part, for there could be no doubt as to the victor in
such a conflict. The one was a boy of alert and gallant bearing, strong
upon his legs, supple and muscular, a vigorous man in embryo; while the
other, not quite so old, small, thin, of a sickly leaden complexion,
seemed as if he might be blown away by a strong puff of wind. His skinny
arms and legs hung on to his body like the claws of a spider, his fair
hair inclined to red, his white skin appeared nearly bloodless, and the
consciousness of weakness made him timid, and gave a shifty, uneasy look
to his eyes. His whole expression was uncertain, and looking only at his
face it was difficult at first sight to decide to which sex he belonged.
This confusion of two natures, this indefinable mixture of feminine
weakness without grace, and of abortive boyhood, seemed to stamp him as
something exceptional, unclassable, and once observed, it was difficult
to take one's eyes from him. Had he been endowed with physical strength
he would have been a terror to his comrades, exercising by fear the
ascendancy which Pierre owed to his joyous temper and unwearied gaiety,
for this mean exterior concealed extraordinary powers of will and
dissimulation. Guided by instinct, the other children hung about Pierre
and willingly accepted his leadership; by instinct also they avoided
Antoine, repelled by a feeling of chill, as if from the neighbourhood of
a reptile, and shunning him unless to profit in some way by their
superior strength. Never would he join their games without compulsion;
his thin, colourless lips seldom parted for a laugh, and even at that
tender age his smile had an unpleasantly sinister expression.

"Will you fight?" again demanded Pierre.

Antoine glanced hastily round; there was no chance of escape, a double
ring enclosed him. To accept or refuse seemed about equally risky; he
ran a good chance of a thrashing whichever way he decided. Although his
heart beat loudly, no trace of emotion appeared on his pallid cheek; an
unforeseen danger would have made him shriek, but he had had time to
collect himself, time to shelter behind hypocrisy. As soon as he could
lie and cheat he recovered courage, and the instinct of cunning, once
roused, prevaile