In a few moments after, they had drawn the little marquetrie table close to the fire, and were deeply interested in the game.
At first, each party played with a seeming attention, which certainly imposed on Herbert, who sat eagerly watching the progress of the game. Frederick Travers was, however, far more occupied in observing his antagonist than in the disposition of his rooks and pawns. While she, soon perceiving his inattention, half suspected that he did not deem her an enemy worth exerting his skill upon, and thus, partly in pique, she bestowed more watchfulness than at first.
“So, Mademoiselle,” cried Travers at length, recurring to his game, “I perceive you have only permitted me to advance thus far, to cut off my retreat for ever. How am I to save myself now?”
“It's hard to say, Sir Captain. It's the old tactique of Celts and Saxons on both sides; you would advance into the heart of the enemy's country, and as, unhappily, the men in ivory are truer than the natives were here, and won't take bribes to fight against their fellows, you must e'en stand or fall by your own deservings.”
“Come, then, the bold policy for ever. Check.”
“And you lose your castle.”
“And you your bishop!”
“We must avenge the church, sir. Take care of your queen.”
“'Parbleu,' Mademoiselle, you are a fierce foe. What say you, if we draw the battle?”
“No, no, cousin Kate; continue, and you win it.”