y, and forget all of me save that I am your antagonist,
your enemy, as I stand between thee and her. Come on, M. Lemercier, do
not forget your promise to Mademoiselle; we will sheath our swords on
the first blood drawn."

"So be it then, if the first is thine," and unsheathing their long and
keen-edged rapiers they put spurs to their horses, and closing up hand
to hand, engaged with admirable skill and address.

The skill of one swordsman seemed equalled only by that of the other.

Lemercier was the first fencer at the Court of France, where fencing
was an accomplishment known to all, and there was no man in Britain
equal to Sir William Hope, whose _Complete Fencing Master_ was long
famous among the lovers of the noble science of defence.

They rode round each other in circles. Warily and sternly they began to
watch each other's eyes, till they flashed in unison with their blades;
their hearts beat quicker as their passions became excited and their
rivalry roused; and their nerves became strung as the hope of conquest
was whetted. The wish of merely being wounded ended in a desire to
wound; and the desire to wound in a clamorous anxiety to vanquish and
destroy. Save the incessant clash of the notched rapiers, as each deadly
thrust was adroitly parried and furiously repeated, the straining of
stirrup-leathers, as each fencer swayed to and fro in his saddle, their
suppressed breathing, and the champing of iron bits, Lemercier and his
foe saw nothing but the gleam and heard nothing but the clash of each
other's glittering swords.

The sun came up in his glory from the shining ocean; the mavis soared
above them in the blue sky; the early flowers of spring were unfolding
their dewy cups to the growing warmth, but still man fought with man,
and the hatred in their hearts waxed fierce and strong.

In many places their richly laced coats were cut and torn. One lost his
hat and had received a severe scar on the forehead, and the other had
one on his bridle hand. They often paused breathlessly, and in weariness
lowered the points of their weapons to glare upon each other with a
ferocity that could have no end but death--until at the sixth encounter,
when Lemercier became exhausted, and failing to parry with sufficient
force a fierce and furious thrust, was run through the breast so near
the heart, that he fell from his horse, gasping and weltering in blood.

Sir William Hope flung away his rapier and sprang to his assistanc