'So be it,'I said quietly.'If I have no other choice,I will fight.'
'In your mask?'he cried incredulously.
'Yes,'I said sternly,feeling every nerve tingle with long-suppressed rage.'I will fight as I am.Off with your back and breast,if you are a man.And I will so deal with you that if you see to-morrow's sun you shall need a mask for the rest of your days!'
'Ho!ho!'he answered,scowling at me in surprise,'you sing in a different key now.But I will put a term to it.There is space enough between these tables,if you can use your weapon;and much more than you will need to-morrow.'
'To-morrow will show,'I retorted.
Without more ado he unfastened the buckles of his breast-piece,and relieving himself of it,stepped back a pace.Those of the bystanders who occupied the part of the room he indicated--a space bounded by four tables,and not unfit for the purpose,though somewhat confined--hastened to get out of it,and seize instead upon neighbouring posts of 'vantage.The man's reputation was such,and his fame so great,that on all sides Iheard naught but wagers offered against me at odds;but this circumstance,which might have flurried a younger man and numbed his arm,served only to set me on making the most of such openings as the fellow's presumption and certainty of success would be sure to afford.
The news of the challenge running through the house had brought together by this time so many people as to fill the room from end to end,and even to obscure the light,which was beginning to wane.At the last moment,when we were on the point of engaging,a slight commotion marked the admission to the front of three or four persons,whose consequence or attendants gained them this advantage.I believed them to be the party of four I have mentioned,but at the time I could not be certain.
In the few seconds of waiting while this went forward I examined our relative positions with the fullest intention of killing the man--whose glittering eyes and fierce smile filled me with a loathing which was very nearly hatred--if I could.The line of windows lay to my right and his left.The evening light fell across us,whitening the row of faces on my left,but leaving those on my right in shadow.It occurred to me on the instant that my mask was actually an advantage,seeing that it protected my sight from the side-light,and enabled me to watch his eyes and point with more concentration.
'You will be the twenty-third man I have killed!'he said boastfully,as we crossed swords and stood an instant on guard.
'Take care!'I answered.'You have twenty-three against you!'
A swift lunge was his only answer.I parried it,and thrust,and we fell to work.We had not exchanged half a dozen blows,however,before I saw that I should need all the advantage which my mask and greater caution gave me.I had met my match,and it might be something more;but that for a time it was impossible to tell.He had the longer weapon,and I the longer reach.He preferred the point,after the new Italian fashion,and I the blade.He was somewhat flushed with wine,while my arm had scarcely recovered the strength of which illness had deprived me.
On the other hand,excited at the first by the cries of his backers,he played rather wildly;while I held myself prepared,and keeping up a strong guard,waited cautiously for any opening or mistake on his part.
The crowd round us,which had hailed our first passes with noisy cries of derision and triumph,fell silent after a while,surprised and taken aback by their champion's failure to spit me at the first onslaught.My reluctance to engage had led them to predict a short fight and an easy victory.
Convinced of the contrary,they began to watch each stroke with bated breath;or now and again,muttering the name of Jarnac,broke into brief exclamations as a blow more savage than usual drew sparks from our blades,and made the rafters ring with the harsh grinding of steel on steel.
The surprise of the crowd,however,was a small thing compared with that of my adversary.Impatience,disgust,rage and doubt chased one another in turn across his flushed features.
Apprised that he had to do with a swordsman,he put forth all his power.With spite in his eyes he laboured blow on blow,he tried one form of attack after another,he found me equal,if barely equal,to all.And then at last there came a change.The perspiration gathered on his brow,the silence disconcerted him;he felt his strength failing under the strain,and suddenly,Ithink,the possibility of defeat and death,unthought of before,burst upon him.I heard him groan,and for a moment he fenced wildly.Then he again recovered himself.But now I read terror in his eyes,and knew that the moment of retribution was at hand.
With his back to the table,and my point threatening his breast,he knew at last what those others had felt!
He would fain have stopped to breathe,but I would not let him though my blows also were growing feeble,and my guard weaker;for I knew that if I gave him time to recover himself he would have recourse to other tricks,and might out-manoeuvre me in the end.As it was,my black unchanging mask,which always confronted him,which hid all emotions and veiled even fatigue,had grown to be full of terror to him--full of blank,passionless menace.He could not tell how I fared,or what I thought,or how my strength stood.Superstitious dread was on him,and threatened,to overpower him.Ignorant who I was or whence Icame,he feared and doubted,grappling with monstrous suspicions,which the fading light encouraged.His face broke out in blotches,his breath came and went in gasps,his eyes began to protrude.Once or twice they quitted mine for a part of a second to steal a despairing glance at the rows of onlookers that ran to right and left of us.But he read no pity there.
