"How do you manage to kill your man whenever you choose?" asked Sant'
Ilario, half idly, half in curiosity.
"It is perfectly simple, at least with foils," replied the other, making passes in the air. "Now, if you will take a foil, I will promise to run you through any part of your body within three minutes. You may make a chalked mark on the precise spot. If I miss by a hair's-breadth I will let you lunge at me without guarding."
"Thank you," said Giovanni; "I do not care to be run through this morning, but I confess I would like to know how you do it. Could not you touch the spot without thrusting home?"
"Certainly, if you do not mind a scratch on the shoulder or the arm. I will try and not draw blood. Come on—so—in guard—wait a minute! Where will you be hit? That is rather important."
Giovanni, who was in a desperate humour and cared little what he did, rather relished the idea of a bout which savoured of reality. There was a billiard-table in the adjoining room, and he fetched a piece of chalk at once.
"Here," said he, making a small white spot upon his coat on the outside of his right shoulder.
"Very well," observed Spicca. "Now, do not rush in or I may hurt you."
"Am I to thrust, too?" asked Giovanni.
"If you like. You cannot touch me if you do."
"We shall see," answered Sant' Ilario, nettled at Spicca's poor opinion of his skill. "In guard!"