The German had already pulled out a few hairs, and was still tugging at the mustache, when M. Dubuis, with a back stroke of his hand, flung aside the officer’s arm, and, seizing him by the collar, threw him down on the seat.  Then, excited to a pitch of fury, his temples swollen and his eyes glaring, he kept throttling the officer with one hand, while with the other clenched he began to strike him violent blows in the face.  The Prussian struggled, tried to draw his sword, to clinch with his adversary, who was on top of him.  But M. Dubuis crushed him with his enormous weight and kept punching him without taking breath or knowing where his blows fell.  Blood flowed down the face of the German, who, choking and with a rattling in his throat, spat out his broken teeth and vainly strove to shake off this infuriated man who was killing him.

The Englishmen had got on their feet and came closer in order to see better.  They remained standing, full of mirth and curiosity, ready to bet for, or against, either combatant.

Suddenly M. Dubuis, exhausted by his violent efforts, rose and resumed his seat without uttering a word.

The Prussian did not attack him, for the savage assault had terrified and astonished the officer as well as causing him suffering.  When he was able to breathe freely, he said: 

“Unless you give me satisfaction with pistols I will kill you.”

M. Dubuis replied: 

“Whenever you like.  I’m quite ready.”

The German said: 

“Here is the town of Strasbourg.  I’ll get two officers to be my seconds, and there will be time before the train leaves the station.”

M. Dubuis, who was puffing as hard as the engine, said to the Englishmen: 

“Will you be my seconds?” They both answered together: 

“Oh, yes!”

And the train stopped.

In a minute the Prussian had found two comrades, who brought pistols, and they made their way toward the ramparts.

The Englishmen were continually looking at their watches, shuffling their feet and hurrying on with the preparations, uneasy lest they should be too late for the train.

M. Dubuis had never fired a pistol in his life.

They made him stand twenty paces away from his enemy.  He was asked: 

“Are you ready?”

While he was answering, “Yes, monsieur,” he noticed that one of the Englishmen had opened his umbrella in order to keep off the rays of the sun.

A voice gave the signal: 

“Fire!”

M. Dubuis fired at random without delay, and he was amazed to see the
Prussian opposite him stagger, lift up his arms and fall forward, dead. 
He had killed the officer.

One of the Englishmen exclaimed:  “Ah!” He was quivering with delight, with satisfied curiosity and joyous impatience.  The other, who still kept his watch in his hand, seized M. Dubuis’ arm and hurried him in double-quick time toward the station, his fellow-countryman marking time as he ran beside them, with closed fists, his elbows at his sides, “One, two; one, two!”