Then the two faced each other and Robert looked straight into his opponent's eyes, reading there the proof that while outwardly de Mézy might now show no signs of dissipation, yet drink and lost hours had struck a blow at the vital organism of the human machine. He was more confident than ever, and he repeated to himself Willet's advice to be cautious and slow at first.
"Your positions, gentlemen!" said de Galisonnière, and they stood face to face. The turf was short and firm, and the place was ideal for their purpose. Among the trees the eager eyes of Monsieur Berryer and a score of others watched.
"Ready!" said de Galisonnière, and then, after a pause of two or three moments, he added:
"Proceed!"
Robert had not looked straight into his opponent's eye so long for nothing. He knew now that de Mézy was choleric and impatient, that he would attack at once with a vigorous arm and a furious heart, expecting a quick and easy victory. His reading of the mind through the eye was vindicated as de Mézy immediately forced the combat, cutting and thrusting with a fire and power that would have overwhelmed an ordinary opponent.
Robert smiled. He knew now beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was de Mézy's master. Not in vain did he have those large and powerful wrists, firm and strong as wrought steel, and not in vain had he been taught for years by the best swordsman in America. He contented himself with parrying the savage cuts and thrusts, and gave ground slowly, retreating in a circle. De Mézy's eyes blazed at first with triumph. He had resented Robert's refusal of his offer to substitute Willet, and now, the victory which he had regarded as easy seemed to be even easier than he had hoped. He pushed the combat harder. His sword flashed in a continuous line of light, and the whirring of steel upon steel was unceasing. But the face of Nemours, as he watched with an understanding eye, fell a little. He saw that the breathing of young Lennox was long and regular, and that his eye was still smiling.
Robert continued to give ground, but he never took his eye from that of de Mézy, and at last the count began to feel that something lay behind that calm, smiling gaze. The drink and the multitude of lost hours came back to demand their price. Something bit into his bone. Was it physical weakness or a sudden decay of confidence? He did not see any sign of weariness in his young opponent, and putting forth every effort of his muscles and every trick and device he knew he could not break through that shining guard of circling steel.
The strange apprehension that had suddenly found a place in de Mézy's mind began to grow. The slow retreat of his young antagonist was becoming slower and then it ceased entirely. Now the leaping sword before him began to drive him back, and always the calm smiling eyes probed into his, reading what he would keep hidden deep in his heart. They saw the terror that was growing there. The disbelief in his antagonist's prowess was now fast turning into a hideous contradiction, and all the while drink and the lost hours that had clamored for their price were taking it.
De Mézy began to give back. His breath grew shorter and he gasped. The deep mottled red returned to his cheeks, and terror took whole possession of him. He had struck down his man before and he had laughed, but he had never faced such a swordsman as this strange youth of the woods, with his smiling eyes and his face which was a mask despite the smile.
Nemours and Le Moyne turned pale. They saw that their leader had never once passed the bar of steel before him, and that while he panted and grew weary Lennox seemed stronger than ever. They saw, too, that the youth was a swordsman far surpassing de Mézy and that now he was playing with his enemy. He struck down his opponent's guard at will, and his blade whistled about his body and face. Nemours' hand fell to his own hilt, but the watchful Willet saw.