“Ah!” exclaimed Lucia, without much show of interest.
“Andrea is to have three assaults.”
“Ah!” repeated the other, in the same tone.
The maître d’armes seated himself at the end of the stage, next to a table, laden with foils and jackets. Every one in the parterre immediately resumed his seat, in profound silence. The theatre was crowded.
The maître d’armes was a Count Alberti, tall, powerfully built, bald, with bushy grey whiskers and serious mien. He was dressed in black, and wore his overcoat buttoned to the chin. His hand was resting on a foil.
“Look! what a fine type,” said Lucia; “a fine imposing figure.”
The first couple advanced to the front of the stage. They were the fencing-master, Giovanelli, and a Baron Mattei. The latter was tall and finely proportioned. His beard was trimmed to a short point, his cropped hair formed another point in the middle of his forehead; he wore a tight-fitting costume of maroon cloth, with a black scarf. He at once captured the ladies’ favour; there was a slight stir in the boxes.
“A Huguenot cavalier, that’s what he looks like,” murmured Lucia, who was becoming excited.
The fencers, after saluting the ladies and the general company, bowed to each other. Then the match began promptly and brilliantly. The fencing-master was short and stout, but uncommonly agile; the Baron, slight, cool, and admirable for ease and precision. They did not open their lips. After each thrust, Mattei fell into a sculpturesque attitude, which thrilled the company with admiration. He was touched twice. He touched his adversary four times. Then they shook hands, and laid down their foils. A burst of applause rang throughout the house.
“Do you like it?” whispered Caterina to Lucia.