Lagardere's only answer was to spring back clear of the nearest swordsmen
and to draw his sword again. The bravos gathered together angrily about
Staupitz, buzzing like irritated bees.
Lagardere flung his comely head back, and his bright eyes flamed with a
royal rage. His words came quick and clear in his anger: "It was for this
you sought to learn Nevers's thrust, and I--Oh, it would make the gods
laugh to think that I taught it to you! You have the best of the joke so
far, excellent assassins, but if any one of you touches a hair of
Nevers's head he will find that the joke is two-edged, like my sword. If
Nevers must die, it shall be in honorable battle and by my hands, but not
by yours, while Lagardere lives."