translated by the agency of W. Mar...

translated by the agency of W. Martin

The hero paces out of the forest. He is wearing a heavy suit of armor. As he walks it clatters softly in the wind. The visor of his helmet has fallen lock up and he sees the world with different views When the duellists catch sight of him, they laugh. Their bodies have not felt the weight of armor. Atop their little heads, gleaming cylinder hats support noiselessly back and forth. Their glov hands possess the beautiful pistols and don't know where to enjoin the bullets. And it begins to snow. The knight leaves dead tracks in the snow behind him. The duelists