"Bravo! Bravo!" cried the spectators, delighted at the big fellow's amazing skill. "Go for him, old chap! Touch him again."
The soldier, not in the least alarmed, defended himself gallantly, but it was evident that he was completely overmatched, and a moment later, Nalla, as if taking pity on his adversary, by a clever pass, disarmed him, and then let his own foil drop.
The place rang with applause while the soldier, carrying out the play with admirable spirit, assumed an attitude of profound humiliation.
When the commotion subsided, there were cries from the soldiers for "Master Deschamps! Master Deschamps!" and Colonel Laurier turned around to survey his men with a questioning look.
Then there came forward a tall athletic man with a strong dark countenance in which eagerness and reluctance seemed to be contending. He was the fencing-master of the regiment, and had the reputation of being one of the most expert in the whole army. It was, therefore, only natural that the men should be anxious to see what he could do against so redoubtable an opponent.
He approached the Colonel, and by an inquiring look sought to know the latter's will.
Colonel Laurier glanced at Madame Pradère, who in her turn shot a quick look at Nadine.
Nadine smiled back unconcernedly. Madame Pradère nodded her assent to the Colonel, and he said in a low tone to Master Deschamps.
"Try a bout with the creature, but be careful not to do him any harm."
The fencing-master bowed, and taking the foil from little Abel put himself on guard.