"Hold, I have felt enough to know that I am your inferior, and as such, Captain Woodville, I lower my sword to you."
Which he did in graceful fashion, and, oddly enough, seeming to be extremely pleased over this acknowledgment of defeat.
"You would not have to make such confession, marshal," said Paul, "if you could recover the good hand you left behind in Russia."
He turned to glance at his two remaining opponents,—Brunowski and Nikita.
"If the marshal, the best of us all, admits himself beaten," said the President of the Diet, "of what use is it for me to try?"
The trooper murmured something to the like effect.
"Give me leave," said Paul, "to retire from this silver line and to move about freely, and I will meet my two remaining opponents together."
"That were to take an unfair advantage of a man," said Brunowski, resenting Paul's proposal as a slight upon his swordsmanship.
"Fair or unfair," growled Zabern, "step forward, both of you, and let us see whether Captain Woodville can do it. If you deem his word a boast, prove it to be such."
The ladies, too, curiously eager to witness fresh proofs of Paul's skill, added their voices to Zabern's, and thus adjured the two men came forward and faced Paul.