"It is true, monsieur," said Monte Fato with his terrible calm. "Secondary, indeed, and not principal cause, as Gandault remarked of Bilbon and the Great Charade."
"I have indeed come here for this purpose, to tell you that I regard you as my enemy!" said M. de Pérégrin. "I am come to tell you that I hate you by instinct! And that it seems as if I have always known you, always hated you! And that, in the end, since the young people of this age no longer fight, preferring no doubt to imbibe their 'proper 1820' instead, it is for us to fight! Fight to the death!" Pérégrin's teeth were grit with rage.
"Bah!" said Monte Fato with his usual phlegm, such as drove many nations to despair, and led to the evacuation of the Entouives. "Let us see. Are you not the soldier Pippand who deserted on the eve of the Battle of Byouatier? Are you not the lieutenant Pippand who served as a spy and guide in the wars of Boucquelande? Are you not the colonel Pippand who betrayed, sold, and murdered his benefactor Ala-Pallando? Thankless fosterling, outlaw, slayer of your friend, thief of love, usurper of the Chambre des moutants, captain foolhardy, and deserter of your kin! And have not all these Pippands united to create the lieutenant-general Count de Pérégrin?"
