ground, where he could lengthen the discourse
of steel by retreating and retreating, and swinging easily to right or to
left. In the narrow track the sword would have transfixed him after a
single feint. He was amused. Much of the cat was in his combative nature.
An idea of disabling or dismembering Angelo, and forwarding him to Meran,
caused him to trifle further with the edge of the blade. Angelo took a
cut, and turned it on his arm; free of the deadly point, he rushed in and
delivered a stab; but Weisspriess saved his breast. Quick, they resumed
their former positions.

'I am really so unused to this game!' said Weisspriess, apologetically.

He was pale: his unsteady breathing, and a deflection of his dripping
sword-wrist, belied his coolness. Angelo plunged full on him, dropped,
and again reached his right arm; they hung, getting blood for blood, with
blazing interpenetrating eyes; a ghastly work of dark hands at half lock
thrusting, and savage eyes reading the fiery pages of the book of hell.
At last the Austrian got loose from the lock and hurled him off.

'That bout was hotter,' he remarked; and kept his sword-point out on the
whole length of the arm: he would have scorned another for so miserable a
form either of attack or defence.

Vittoria beheld Angelo circling round the point, which met him
everywhere; like the minute hand of a clock about to sound his hour, she
thought.

He let fall both his arms, as if beaten, which brought on the attack: by
sheer evasion he got away from the sword's lunge, and essayed a second
trial of the bite of steel at close quarters; but the Austrian backed and
kept him to the point, darting short alluring thrusts, thinking to tempt
him on, or to wind him, and then to have him. Weisspriess was chilled by
a more curious revulsion from this sort of engagement than he at first
experienced. He had become nervously incapable of those proper niceties
of sword-play which, without any indecent hacking or maiming, should have
stretched Angelo, neatly slain, on the mat of green, before he had a
chance. Even now the sight of the man was distressing to an honourable
duellist. Angelo was scored with blood-marks. Feeling that he dared not
offer another chance to a fellow so desperately close-dealing,
Weisspriess thrust fiercely, but delayed his fatal stroke. Angelo stooped
and pulled up a handful of grass and soft earth in his left hand.

'We have been longer about it than I expected,' said W