“I am satisfied,” returned the young man, coldly.
“But I’m not!” reiterated the patroon, restraining himself with difficulty. “It was understood we should continue until both were willing to stop!”
“No,” interrupted the count, suavely; “it was understood you should continue, if both were willing!”
“And you’re not!” exclaimed the land baron, wheeling on Saint-Prosper. “Did you leave the army because––”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen! let us observe the proprieties!” expostulated the count. “Is it your intention, sir”––to Saint-Prosper––“not to grant my principal’s request?”
A fierce new anger gleamed from the soldier’s eyes, completely transforming his expression and bearing. His glance quickly swept from the count to Mauville 272 at the studied insult of the latter’s words; on his cheek burned a dark red spot.
“Let it go on!”
The count stepped nimbly from his position between the two men. Again the swords crossed. The count’s glance bent itself more closely on the figure of the soldier; noting now how superbly poised was his body; what reserves of strength were suggested by the white, muscular arm! His wrist moved like a machine, lightly brushing aside the thrusts. Had it been but accident that Mauville’s unlooked-for expedient had failed?
“The devil!” thought the count, watching the soldier. “Here is a fellow who has deceived us all.”
But the land baron’s zest only appeared to grow in proportion to the resistance he encountered; the lust for fighting increased with the music of the blades. For some moments he feinted and lunged, seeking an opening, however slight. Again he appeared bent upon forcing a quick conclusion, for suddenly with a rush he sought to break over Saint-Prosper’s guard, and succeeded in wounding the other slightly in the forehead. Now sure of his man, Mauville sprang at him savagely.