In the Name of a Woman: A Romance

by Arthur W. Marchmont

He went up to the target again and stood before it, scrutinising the marks of the bullets as though I had performed a miracle.

“I never saw anything like it. It’s wonderful,” I heard him mutter to himself. Then in a louder tone to me: “I should like to come here for practice, Count.” But I had no mind for that.

“It would not do, I am afraid. If we are to make this business a success, I must be as slightly associated with you as possible.”

“Yes, that is true—and shrewd enough. You won’t want recruits if you can teach them to do that,” pointing to the target. “And are you equally clever with the foils?” I could have found it in me to laugh at the change in his manner. He was like a man who had come to bully and had unexpectedly been whipped.

“No, a long way from it. Would you like to try?” But he declined on the plea that he had no time. His refusal surprised me, for I had heard that he was a splendid fencer, and was somewhat curious to see how far he was my superior. I concluded that he was unwilling to show me how really skilful he was, and had to content myself with the evident impression my skill with the revolver had produced.

He left me soon afterwards, expressing another hope that we should be friends; but I was as guarded in my reply as I had been before, and certainly no more cordial.

I was glad of the visit, however. He had solved the difficulty which had been perplexing me. It was evident that the Princess had said enough to lead him to think that I was working on his side, and I was convinced that he would say as much to General Kolfort, and thus unwittingly render me a service.

That our dislike was mutual I had no doubt. He had come resolved to patronise and, perhaps, to ride rough shod over me in his swaggering, overbearing way; and his performance with the pistol had been intended to intimidate me, by proving that he was as dangerous to quarrel with as he was powerful as an ally. But my display had changed all that; and in a degree had humiliated him in my eyes at the very moment when he was keen to appear most formidable.

He was a man to take such a rebuff badly; and for the future I felt he would be no friend of mine. Whether he would dare to be an enemy depended upon his skill as a swordsman; and that he had carefully kept hidden from me.

Nevertheless, he had cleared one tangle from the skein of my difficulties, and I was therefore glad of the visit. Whether he would seek to show his enmity openly I did not trouble to ask myself.