"I shall try to show you," I said, and tossed aside my coat and drew my small sword.
He stood rigid and motionless, and his face became more set and expressionless than I had ever seen it; but before he could speak, Mademoiselle had sprung between us.
"You fool!" she cried. "Put up your sword. Will you not be quiet as I told you?"
"Be seated, Mademoiselle," said my father gently. "Where are your senses, Henry? Can you not manage without creating a scene? Put up your sword. I cannot draw against you."
Mademoiselle, paler than I had seen her before, sank back into her chair.
"I am sorry you find yourself unable," I said, "because I shall attack you in any event."
"What can you be thinking of?" my father remonstrated. "Engage me with a small sword? It is incredible."
"I have been waiting almost twelve hours for the opportunity," I replied.
"Pray put yourself on guard, father."
His stony look of repression had left him. The lines about his mouth relaxed again. For a moment I thought the gaze he bent upon me was almost kindly. Then he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, and began slowly to unwind a handkerchief which he had tied about his right hand, disclosing several cuts on his knuckles.
"I forgot that Captain Tracy might have teeth," he said. "Positively, my son, you become disappointing. I had given you credit for more imagination, and instead you think you can match your sword against mine. Pray do not interrupt, Mademoiselle," he added, turning to her with a bow, "it will be quite nothing, and we have neither of us had much exercise."