The Duke slipped as he parried a thrust, and I thought that the unexpected had happened; but, like lightning, the Englishman's rapier was drawn back, and his adversary acknowledged the courtesy and skill which had saved his life with a bow worthy of himself.
An hour passed, and still the combat waged. I wearied of the eternal "On guard, messieurs!" It seemed so fruitless that two such masters of fence should strive for empty victory.
"On guard, messieurs!"
Sir Edward Rivington was hesitating, and stood with the dawn of a smile upon his face.
"On guard, messieurs! s'il vous plait."
The Ambassador shook his head, and, throwing down his sword, advanced, with hand extended to his adversary.
"I tender you my apologies," he said, gravely. "I admit I spoke triflingly of French duelling. I admit that I sneered at several of your own affairs of honor. I confess that I regarded them as child's play, not knowing then, as I do now, that you are a sublime master of the art of swordsmanship, and could have killed every man who stood before you."
"Every man, save yourself, Sir Edward!" the Duke exclaimed, with a slight smile of satisfaction.
"You were playing, as I was, for the disarm."
"And neither of us succeeded. Frankly, for the first time in my life I have met my equal. Strange that he should be one of the nation that discountenances the use of the rapier."