These cries had also the effect of disconcerting my opponents.
Then a lucky chance happened.
One of the men in jumping back out of the way of one of my thrusts stumbled over the second, and sent this one for a moment into Devinsky's way. I saw my chance and seized it in an instant. In a trice I rushed at the half prostrate man and disdaining to kill him when his guard was down, I kicked him with my heavy riding boot with all my force in the face, and sent him reeling back, groaning and half choked with the blood that came gushing out of his nose and mouth, while his sword, went rattling across the floor to where Olga stood, looking on aghast, breathless and open mouthed in her fear.
But the chance nearly cost me dear, for the man's companion turned on me and thrust at me with such directness and rapidity as all but ended the fight; for his sword went through the fleshy part of my arm, just above the elbow. An inch or so nearer the body would have sent it right through my heart. It was the last thrust he ever made, however. The next instant my blade had found his heart, and with a groan he dropped.
Before I could withdraw it, however, Devinsky uttered a cry of hate, and dashing at me thrust at my heart with all his strength.
He must have killed me but for Olga.
That splendid girl had picked up the fallen man's sword and now, seeing my plight, she sprang forward, at the hazard of her life, crying out "Coward!" and struck down Devinsky's sword with all her force.
"Good," I cried; and the next instant, I had wrenched my weapon free and held the man.
"Take care. Back to the room, or behind me, child," I cried, when I heard my opponent curse in his foiled attempt to kill me and saw him turn as if to attack Olga. "Now, you butcher, it's you and I alone; and you or I, to live."
"As you will," he said, and I saw him clench his teeth and set his face in the way men do who know that they are face to face with a risk where failure means death.