The light was waning a
little, the wicks of the candles were burning long; but neither noticed
it or dared to remove his eyes from the other's. Their laboured
breathing found an echo on the farther side of the door, but this again
neither observed.
"Well?" Count Hannibal said at last. "Are you coming?"
"When I please," Tignonville answered; and he feinted but drew back.
The other did the same, and again they watched one another, their eyes
seeming to grow smaller and smaller. Gradually a smile had birth on
Tignonville's lips. He thrust! It was parried! He thrust
again--parried! Tavannes, grown still more cautious, gave a yard.
Tignonville pushed on, but did not allow confidence to master caution. He
began, indeed, to taunt his adversary; to flout and jeer him. But it was
with a motive.
For suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he repeated the peculiar
thrust which had been successful before. This time, however, Tavannes
was ready. He put aside the blade with a quick parade, and instead of
making a riposte sprang within the other's guard. The two came face to
face and breast to shoulder, and struck furiously with their daggers.
Count Hannibal was outside his opponent's sword and had the advantage.
Tignonville's dagger fell, but glanced off the metalwork of the other's
hilt; Tavannes' fell swift and hard between the young man's eyes.
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