but there was no danger—nothing to prevent my fighting on; and again we had to engage.
It was now with the greatest difficulty that I could restrain myself to act only on the defensive. The triumphant gleam in his eyes when his sword found its way into my body had sent my temper up many degrees. A man of honour, having such skill of fence as he possessed, and seeing that I was making no effort to attack him, and was, indeed, actually letting pass the openings he gave, would have refused to continue a fight on such unequal terms. But he grew more murderous the longer we fought, and more than once made a deliberate use of my reluctance to wound him by exposing himself recklessly in order to try and kill me. He did it deftly and skilfully, with great caution, step by step, as if to assure himself of the fact before he relied and risked too much upon it; but, having satisfied himself, he grew bolder every minute.
It was no better than murder; and, strive as I would, remembering Christina's words and seeking to be loyal to her, I could not stop my rising temper nor check the rapidly growing desire to punish him for his abominable and cowardly tactics. As the intention hardened in my mind, so my fighting changed. My touch grew firmer, more aggressive; I began to press him in my turn, and to show him the dangers that he ran. He read the thought by that subtle instinct which all swordsmen know, and, as my face grew harder and my eyes shone with a more deadly light, I saw him wince, and noted the shadow of fear come creeping over his face and into his eyes. He began to fight without confidence and nervously, dropping the attack and standing like a man at bay.
I pressed him harder and harder, my blood growing
