Strange, but he felt no pain, neither was there an
accompanying numbness. Then he remembered his cuirass, which was
of steel an eighth of an inch thick. It had saved his life. The
needles began to leave his right hand and arm, and he knew that
he had received no injury other than a shock. He passed the
saber back to his right hand. He had no difficulty in holding it.
Gradually his grip grew strong and steady.
Beauvais was now within twenty yards of Maurice. Had he been
less eager and held his fire up to this point, Maurice had been
a dead man. The white horse gained every moment. A dull fury
grew into life in Maurice's heart. Instead of continuing the
race, he brought the Mecklenberg to his haunches and wheeled. He
made straight for Beauvais, who was surprised at this change of
tactics. In the rush they passed each other and the steel hummed
spitefully through space. Both wheeled again.
"Your life or mine!" snarled Maurice. His coolness, however, was
proportionate to his rage. For the first time in his life the
lust to kill seized him.
"It shall be yours, damn you!" replied Beauvais.
"The Austrian ambassador has your history; kill me or not, you
are lost.
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