It is all on your own head. It
is too bad that cur of an Englishman had to run away."
The innkeeper's knife was so close that I could feel the point of it
against my ribs. So I gave up the wild idea of yelling from the window
that I hadn't run away.
The lieutenant's opponent shrugged. He placed himself on guard; that
was his reply. Suddenly the two sprang forward, and the clash of
swords followed. I could not keep track of the weapons, but I could
see that the youngster was holding his own amazingly well. Neither was
touched the first bout.
"Two minutes," murmured the old rascal at my side. "It will be over
this time."
"You seem to have a good deal of confidence in your young man," said I.
"There is not a finer swords--swordsman in the kingdom, or on the
continent, for that matter. There! they are at it again."
Step by step the lieutenant gave ground; the clashing had stopped; it
was needle-like work now. Gradually they began to turn around. The
blades flashed in the moonshine like heat lightning. My pulse attuned
itself to every stroke. I heard a laugh.
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