He had been brought up in the country, where his father practised medicine. There all his leisure had been spent in manly sports, riding, running, shooting, fencing; all these things he had gone in for as a boy, with the result that the town-bred Landauer, though an expert swordsman, was not, as regards physical training, to be compared with him.
Helmar hoped at some future date to succeed his father in his practice, and to that end had worked hard, using, as a matter of fact, the University recreation rooms and grounds very little. It was, therefore, not strange that his companions should doubt his ability to meet his adversary with any chance of success.
It is often small things that alter the course of a man's life, and so it was with Helmar. What he thought to be but a mere incident in his career turned out to be the cross-roads of his existence.
During the time which elapsed before the duel, he pursued his studies in the same indomitable fashion, considering but little of his chances, assuring himself only of the justness of his cause.
His friend Osterberg, however, was greatly concerned, and passed many sleepless nights weighing the possibilities of what might happen. Although he was to become a clergyman, and duelling was forbidden him, he nevertheless had plenty of fight in him, and many times wished that he could relieve his friend of the self-imposed risk he was taking on his behalf.
Landauer, on the other hand, had too much of the vanity of the bully to cause him any uneasiness. He was confident of his own superiority over Helmar, and discussed his inevitable success wherever opportunity arose.
The day at last arrived, and early in the morning the combatants met at the appointed place. Doctor Hertz was in attendance, and as the two young men stripped and stood grasping the hilts of their swords, he eyed them critically.
Landauer he passed over with a glance, his neat, lithe figure was quite familiar to him, he knew his powers to a fraction, and was perfectly aware that he would give a good account of himself.
With George Helmar it was different. He had never seen him before—it was his first appearance in the duelling world. The doctor's critical glance quickly turned into one of admiration. The tall, loose figure, though perhaps not beautiful in an artistic sense, pleased him greatly. Helmar's back and chest were ribbed with beautifully developed muscles, while his long, sinewy arms hung loosely at his sides, their very pose indicating to his practised eye their perfect suppleness.
The old doctor liked what he saw in the new candidate, and a grim smile played over his face as the word of command was given.