"If she is as clever as her sister," said Paul gallantly, "she must be skilful indeed. I offer you my compliments upon your daughters, Monsieur Dupré, they are indeed a credit to their teacher."
"Ah, Monsieur, if they were but of the sex!" cried old Pierre; "but there—it is not their fault—I have bewailed it all their lives, but it is not their fault."
Paul, in his bout with Louise, was at first amused to find that he was getting the worst of it. Presently, as she added point to point, his amusement turned to disgust and presently he grew a little angry. When Paul reached this stage, in a fencing bout, he generally became invincible; and during the latter portion of the set-to his score rapidly improved. Nevertheless, when time was called it was found that Louise had won upon a point. Old Dupré clapped his hands in unfeigned delight, apologising immediately after for his rudeness.
"I also crave permission to applaud," said Paul; "Mademoiselle is magnificent. Several times she took me unawares in a manner that I thought impossible of any swordsman in Paris. If Mademoiselle is not tired, I should be grateful to try conclusions once more when she is rested; while she rests there are one or two points in our bout which I should like to think over."
"Oh—ah!" cried old Pierre delighted. "Monsieur refers I think to the feint flanconnade—the feint flanconnade Dupré we call it; it is a trick of my invention, Monsieur; twice I observed she scored by it! yes, it is subtle, Monsieur, and found by my daughters and by our pupils to be most exceptionally successful. It is a compliment that Monsieur takes notice of these little things."
"It is owing to these 'little things' that I find myself vanquished by Mademoiselle," Paul laughed good-naturedly. "I will consider these points for five minutes with Mademoiselle's permission."
During the interval old Dupré conversed with Vera Demidof, explaining to her how hard it had been for a parent longing for boys to find himself saddled with girls; how his daughters had, however, done their very best to atone for the "mischance" by growing up—as he had thought—superior to the weaknesses of their sex; and how he had been rudely brought up by the horrible discovery that Marie had fallen in love with his assistant and desired to marry him forthwith.
"Imagine my grief, Mademoiselle," old Pierre mourned; "so promising a swordswoman, so great a help and comfort to me, and pouff! she is married and her usefulness is gone! All that is man in her is gone also!"
Vera could not help laughing.
"You still have Louise!" she said, doing her best to say something comforting.