第40章 THE FIGHT ON THE STAIRS.(3)

That first bout lasted half a minute only.A fierce exultant joy ran through me as the steel rang and grated,and I found that Ihad not mistaken the strength of wrist or position.The men were mine.They hampered one another on the stairs,and fought in fetters,being unable to advance or retreat,to lunge with freedom,or give back without fear.I apprehended greater danger from Matthew than from my actual opponent,and presently,watching my opportunity,disarmed the latter by a strong parade,and sweeping Matthew's sword aside by the same movement,slashed him across the forehead;then,drawing back a step,gave my first opponent the point.He fell in a heap on the floor,as good as dead,and Matthew,dropping his sword,staggered backwards and downwards into Fresnoy's arms.

'Bonne Foi!France et Bonne Foi!'It seemed to me that I bad not spoken,that I had plied steel in grimmest silence;and yet the cry still rang and echoed in the roof as I lowered my point,and stood looking grimly down at them.Fresnoy's face was disfigured with rage and chagrin.They were now but two to one,for Matthew,though his wound was slight,was disabled by the blood which ran down into his eyes and blinded him.'France et Bonne Foi!'

'Bonne Foi and good sword!'cried a voice behind me.And looking swiftly round,I saw mademoiselle's face thrust through the hole in the door.Her eyes sparkled with a fierce light,her lips were red beyond the ordinary,and her hair,loosened and thrown into disorder by her exertions,fell in thick masses about her white cheeks,and gave her the aspect of a war-witch,such as they tell of in my country of Brittany.'Good sword!'she cried again,and clapped her hands.

'But better board,mademoiselle!'I answered gaily.Like most of the men of my province,I am commonly melancholic,but I have the habit of growing witty at such times as these.'Now,M.

Fresnoy,'I continued,'I am waiting your convenience.Must Iput on my cloak to keep myself warm?'

He answered by a curse,and stood looking at me irresolutely.

'If you will come down,'he said.

'Send your man away and I will come,'I answered briskly.'There is space on the landing,and a moderate light.But I must be quick.Mademoiselle and I are due elsewhere,and we are late already.'

Still he hesitated.Still he looked at the man lying at his feet --who had stretched himself out and passed,quietly enough,a minute before--and stood dubious,the most pitiable picture of cowardice and malice--he being ordinarily a stout man--I ever saw.I called him poltroon and white-feather,and was considering whether I had not better go down to him,seeing that our time must be up,and Simon would be quitting his post,when a cry behind me caused me to turn,and I saw that mademoiselle was no longer looking through the opening in the door.

Alarmed on her behalf,as I reflected that there might be other doors to the room,and the men have other accomplices in the house,I sprang to the door to see,but had basely time to send a single glance round-the interior--which showed me only that the room was still occupied--before Fresnoy,taking advantage of my movement and of my back being turned,dashed up the stairs,with his comrade at his heels,and succeeded in pinning me into the narrow passage where I stood.

I had scarcely time,indeed,to turn and put myself on guard before he thrust at me.Nor was that all.The superiority in position no longer lay with me.I found myself fighting between walls close to the opening in the door,through which the light fell athwart my eyes,baffling and perplexing me.Fresnoy was not slow to see the aid this gave him,and pressed me hard and desperately;so that we played for a full minute at close quarters,thrusting and parrying,neither of us having room to use the edge,or time to utter word or prayer.

At this game we were so evenly matched that for a time the end was hard to tell.Presently,however,there came a change.My opponent's habit of wild living suited ill with a prolonged bout,and as his strength and breath failed and he began to give ground I discerned I had only to wear him out to have him at my mercy.

He felt this himself,and even by that light I saw the sweat spring in great drops to his forehead,saw the terror grow in his eyes.Already I was counting him a dead man and the victory mine,when something hashed behind his blade,and his comrade's poniard,whizzing past his shoulder,struck me fairly on the chin,staggering me and hurling me back dizzy and half-stunned,uncertain what had happened to me.

Sped an inch lower it,would have done its work and finished mine.Even as it was,my hand going up as I reeled back gave Fresnoy an opening,of which he was not slow to avail himself.

He sprang forward,lunging at me furiously,and would have run me through there and then,and ended the matter,bad not his foot,as he advanced,caught in the stool,which still lay against the wall.He stumbled,his point missed my hip by a hair's breadth,and he himself fell all his length on the floor,his rapier breaking off short at the hilt.