aluted quickly as he spoke, according
to the code of the fencing-schools.

And AEsop, in answer to the challenge, drew his own sword and answered the
salutation. "Gallant captain," he sneered, "I have been in training for
this chance these many years, and I think I will teach you to weep for
your heroics." As he spoke he came on guard, and the blades met.

The place that had been chosen for the combat was suitable enough, quite
apart from its solitude. The morning air was clear and even; the sun's
height caused no diverting rays to disturb either adversary; the grass
was smooth and supple to the feet; there was ample ground to break in all
directions.

The moment that Lagardere's steel touched that of AEsop's, he knew that
AEsop's boast had not been made in vain. Though it was a long time now
since that afternoon in the frontier Inn when he and AEsop had joined
blades before, he remembered the time well enough to appreciate the
difference between the sword he then encountered and the sword he
encountered now. Clearly AEsop had spoken the truth when he had talked of
his daily practice and his steady advance towards perfection. But, and
Lagardere smiled as he remembered this, AEsop had forgotten or overlooked
the possibility that Lagardere's own sword-play would improve with
time--that Lagardere's own sword-play was little likely to rust for lack
of usage.

The few minutes that followed upon the encounter of the hostile steels
were minutes of sheer enjoyment to Lagardere. AEsop was a worthy
antagonist, that he frankly admitted from the first, and he wished, as he
fought, that he could divide his personality and admire, as a spectator,
the passage at arms between two such champions. Of the result, from the
first, Lagardere had not the slightest doubt. He was honestly convinced,
by his simple logic of steel, that it was his mission to avenge Nevers
and to expiate his murder. He was, as it were, a kind of seventeenth
century crusader, with a sealed and sacred mission to follow; and while,
as a stout-hearted and honest soldier of fortune, he had no more
hesitation about killing a venomous thing like AEsop than he would have
had about killing a snake, he was in this special instance exulted by the
belief that in killing one of the men of the moat of Caylus his sword was
the sword of justice, his sword was the sword of God.

If, therefore, it was soon plain to him that the boast of the hunchback
was true enough, and that h