“Are you not aware that we are never seen one without the others, and that we are called, at court and in the city, Ethos, Pathos, and Logos, or the Three Rhetoricians?”

The three men spread out across the barren fields of the Preaux-Clercs, which were generally employed as a place for duels of men who had no time to lose.

“My faith! I was ignorant of this little fact,” replied d’Aristotle.

“Sound off!” cried Logos.

“Ethos!” cried the first rhetorician, his noble and handsome, but frightfully pale, head held high. “Surrender! Do as I say, because I know what I’m talking about! I am an authority!”

“Pathos!” sounded the second, a rhetorician of great height and haughty countenance, dressed in a magnificent baldric, worked in gold, which shone like water ripples in the sun. “I’m passionate in my beliefs! Yield before me, to spare yourself heartache and fear!”

“Logos!” added the last. A stout man, he had an open and ingenuous countenance, his cheeks rosy and downy as an autumn peach. “Lay down your arms! Logically, you cannot prevail with three against one!”

“You are well named, gentlemen,” said d’Aristotle. “But your rhetoric does not persuade me! I find that your appeals lack supporting evidence!”

This entry incorporates some text from the public domain Dumas books at Project Gutenberg.

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