n his belt, "and I shall be obliged to kill
you more honorably than you deserve. Draw, monsieur, draw."

And D'Harmental, leaning his left foot against the door, drew his sword,
and placed himself on guard. It was a court sword, a thin ribbon of
steel, set in a gold handle. Roquefinette began to laugh.

"With what shall I defend myself, chevalier? Do you happen to have one
of your mistress's knitting needles here?"

"Defend yourself with your own sword, monsieur; long as it is, you see
that I am placed so that I cannot make a step to avoid it."

"What do you think of that, my dear?" said the captain, addressing his
blade.

"It thinks that you are a coward, captain," cried D'Harmental, "since it
is necessary to strike you in the face to make you fight." And with a
movement as quick as lightning, D'Harmental cut the captain across the
face with his rapier, leaving on the cheek a long blue mark like the
mark of a whip.

Roquefinette gave a cry which might have been taken for the roaring of a
lion, and bounding back a step, threw himself on guard, his sword in his
hand. Then began between these two men a duel, terrible, hidden, silent,
for both were intent on their work, and each understood what sort of an
adversary he had to contend with. By a reaction, very easy to be
understood, it was now D'Harmental who was calm, and Roquefinette who
was excited. Every instant he menaced D'Harmental with his long sword,
but the frail rapier followed it as iron follows the loadstone, twisting
and spinning round it like a viper. At the end of about five minutes the
chevalier had not made a single lunge, but he had parried all those of
his adversary. At last, on a more rapid thrust than the others, he came
too late to the parry, and felt the point of his adversary's sword at
his breast. At the same time a red spot spread from his shirt to his
lace frill. D'Harmental saw it, and with a spring engaged so near to
Roquefinette that the hilts almost touched. The captain instantly saw
the disadvantage of his long sword in such a position. A thrust "sur les
armes" and he was lost; he made a spring backward, his foot slipped on
the newly-waxed floor, and his sword-hand rose in spite of himself.
Almost by instinct D'Harmental profited by it, lunged within, and
pierced the captain's chest, where the blade disappeared to the hilt.
D'Harmental recovered to parry in return, but the precaution was
needless; the captain stood still an instant, ope