As Maurice looked into the
merciless eyes of his enemy, a dim knowledge came to him that
this was to be an event and not a catastrophe, a fragment of a
picture yet to be fully drawn. His confidence and courage
returned. He thanked God, however, that the light above equalized
their positions, and that the shadows were behind them.
The swords came together with a click light but ominous.
Immediately Beauvais stepped back, suddenly threw forward his
body, and delivered three rapid thrusts. Maurice met them firmly,
giving none.
"Ah!" cried Beauvais; "that is good. You know a little. There
will be sport, besides."
Maurice shut his lips the tighter, and worked purely on the
defensive. His fencing master had taught him two things, silence
and watchfulness. While Beauvais made use of his forearm, Maurice
as yet depended solely on his wrist. Once they came together,
guard to guard, neither daring to break away until by mutual
agreement, spoken only by the eyes, both leaped backward out of
reach. There was no sound save the quick light stamp of feet and
the angry murmur of steel scraping against steel. Sometimes they
moved circlewise, with free blades, waiting and watching.
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