And, being convinced that it was I that fronted him, he had suddenly seen an opportunity to accomplish in open fight what his hired a.s.sa.s.sin had bungled. It is notorious that American officers know practically nothing of the art of fence; what easier than to drive me into drawing on him and, then, after a bit of play, to run me neatly through the heart. What mattered it if he were the aggressor? It would be easy to aver he had not known me--that I had chosen to insult him, and, having refused to unmask and apologize, had suffered the consequences of my own rashness and bad manners.

And, even suppose no one believed his story that he did not know me.

What mattered it? One does not execute the Heir Presumptive of Valeria for murder. True, the King might rage--and a term of banishment to his mountain estates might follow; yet, what trifling penalties for the end attained. They would be only for the moment, as it were. But the American would be dead--the Crown sure--the Princess still unmarried.

Truly, it was a chance which would never come again; and not to seize it was to mock Fortune to her very face.

It takes far longer to write this than to think it. It all went through my mind in the brief s.p.a.ce Lotzen gave me for reply.

"I am waiting, monsieur," he said.

The Gypsy laughed softly.

"You tell him so much he already knows," said she.

Lotzen looked at her--in surprise, I doubt not.

"Mademoiselle is impatient," he remarked.

She shrugged her pretty shoulders.

Then he bowed again to me.

"You see, monsieur," he said, "you tire the Lady; I must ask you to make haste."

If anyone think it easy to stand, stolidly, in one position for a considerable period, and have impertinent things said to him the while, let him try it. He will be very apt to change his notion. But, I stuck to it; and my soldier training helped me--and the mask relieved my face.

"You are stubborn, monsieur, as well as bad mannered. I shall have to spur you, I see," he went on. "I ask you, once again, monsieur, to remove your mask. If you do not, I shall give you a bit of steel in the left leg."

"And, if that be ineffective?" the lady asked.

"Then, I shall touch him in the other leg--and, if he still refuses, then, in the right arm--and, then, if necessary, in the left arm; each time a trifle deeper."

"And, then----?" she inflected, very sweetly.

"Then?" he repeated. "I think there will be no need for a 'then,'

mademoiselle," he laughed sneeringly.

She nodded toward me.

"Isn't it about time to begin?" she asked.

"Your wish, my dear, is my law," he said. "You hear, monsieur; your time is up--prepare."

He stepped forward and thrust, very slowly, at my thigh. Even then, I could not think that he would actually dare to touch me with his sword; and I made no motion. I proposed to call his bluff--if it were one.

Closer and closer, inch by inch, drew the point. It reached the velvet--hesitated--pa.s.sed through--and just pierced my flesh--then, was withdrawn.

And, with that cut, came the blood-l.u.s.t, like unto the rage of the berserker of old. Yet, somehow, I had the sense to stand quiet and let the red pa.s.sion burn itself out. I would need all my coolness to meet Lotzen's skill.

"Now, will monsieur remove his mask?" he asked.

"You scarcely touched him," scoffed the Gypsy.

Lotzen held up the sword.

"See the red upon the point?" he asked.

"Blood! You actually cut him!" she exclaimed--then pointed her finger at me, derisively. "And you wear a sword!" she sneered.

It was pretty hard to take. But I had a notion, foolish, possibly, to play the game a little longer.

"Come along, my friend," she went on. "This is poor sport. I hate a coward."

For an instant, I feared he would heed her and go--and that would have obliged me to become the aggressor; which I much preferred not to be.

"A coward!" he laughed--and looked at me. "You hear that, monsieur: a coward." Then he put his hand on her arm. "You are quite right, my dear, it is poor sport," he said. "Yet, stay a moment longer. I shall forego the other cuts and tear off his mask, instead."

"And permit him to wear a sword?" she mocked. "Surely, not! Why don't you break it?"

"A charming suggestion--thank you.--You hear my Lady's wish, Monsieur le Coquin," he said to me, and presenting his blade at my breast.

"Will you yield your sword or shall I be obliged to take it from you?"

At last, Lotzen had driven me to action, in pointing his sword at my breast. If he touched it my steel vest would be disclosed, at once; and that was not to my mind. It would explain the failure of his bravo's dagger. More than that I did not care for. Doubtless, he was wearing one himself at that very moment. One usually ascribes to his enemy methods similar to one's own--and, as Lotzen dealt in a.s.sa.s.sination, he would expect me to do the same.

I waited a moment. Then, stepping quickly out of reach, I drew my own sword.

"Here it is, my Lord," I said. "Which end will you take?"

"The only end that you can give me, monsieur--the hilt," was the answer.

"Come and get it, then," I drawled.

He turned to the Gypsy.

"Will mademoiselle pardon me," he said.

"Will you be long?" she asked.

"Only a moment. I'll make it very short."

"I'll wait," she said carelessly.

He bowed to her--and then faced me.

"Has Monsieur le Coquin any particular spot in which he prefers to receive my point?" he asked.

"None, my Lord," I answered; "I shall leave that to your own good taste."