[IC} Monkeys, violins, and violence

Two solid feet of wooden rod, three centimetres thick, collide with Marcel's elbow as the tip of his rapier scrapes across the gendarme's ribs! The Richelieu and the policeman gasp in unison. Each staggers aside in their own world of pain. Marcel's hand is limp and pierced by a throbbing sensation of needles, he barely avoids dropping his sword.

The other two gendarmes immediately move to engage with Jean and Pierre, but they appear a bit more cautious than their blustering comrade ... in a show of chivalry, perhaps? the male gendarme closes on Pierre, the female on Jean.

"Ah!" exclaims the gendarme, "your wits are sharper than I thought!" He presses his free hand to the dark patch that is spreading from the rent in his pale blue uniform jacket. "Alors! I must decline further repartee. Helene, Jacques, let us withdraw; these folk are here on the Head's orders, I suppose."

"Eh, was this not sufficient violence?" quips the other male gendarme as he turns away. Over his shoulder, as he takes his comrade's elbow on the unwounded side, he adds, "What bizzyness do you have here, anyway?"