More than the actual parry, the laugh by which it was accompanied seemed to make of that end no more than a beginning. And yet it was the end of something. It was the end of that absolute confidence that had hitherto inspired M. de La Tour d'Azyr. He no longer looked upon the issue as a thing forgone. He realized that if he was to prevail in this encounter, he must go warily and fence as he had never fenced yet in all his life.
They settled down again; and again—on the principle this time that the soundest defence is in attack—it was the Marquis who made the game. André-Louis allowed him to do so, desired him to do so; desired him to spend himself and that magnificent speed of his against the greater speed that whole days of fencing in succession for nearly two years had given the master. With a beautiful, easy pressure of forte on foible André-Louis kept himself completely covered in that second bout, which once more culminated in a lunge.
Expecting it now, André-Louis parried it by no more than a deflecting touch. At the same moment he stepped suddenly forward, right within the other's guard, thus placing his man so completely at his mercy that, as if fascinated, the Marquis did not even attempt to recover himself.
This time André-Louis did not laugh: He just smiled into the dilating eyes of M. de La Tour d'Azyr, and made no shift to use his advantage.
"Come, come, monsieur!" he bade him sharply. "Am I to run my blade through an uncovered man?" Deliberately he fell back, whilst his shaken opponent recovered himself at last.
M. d'Ormesson released the breath which horror had for a moment caught. Le Chapelier swore softly, muttering:
"Name of a name! It is tempting Providence to play the fool in this fashion!"
André-Louis observed the ashen pallor that now overspread the face of his opponent.
"I think you begin to realize, monsieur, what Philippe de Vilmorin must have felt that day at Gavrillac. I desired
