"
At last we were ready, and I shifted the whole of my attention to
the short, powerful figure of Chatellerault as he advanced upon me,
stripped to the waist, his face set and his eyes full of stern
resolve. Despite his low stature, and the breadth of frame which
argue sluggish motion, there was something very formidable about the
Count. His bared arms were great masses of muscular flesh, and if
his wrist were but half as supple as it looked powerful, that alone
should render him a dangerous antagonist.
Yet I had no qualm of fear, no doubt, even, touching the issue. Not
that I was an habitual ferrailleur. As I have indicated, I had
fought but one man in all my life. Nor yet am I of those who are
said to know no fear under any circumstances. Such men are not
truly brave; they are stupid and unimaginative, in proof of which I
will advance the fact that you may incite a timid man to deeds of
reckless valour by drugging him with wine. But this is by the way.
It may be that the very regular fencing practice that in Paris I was
wont to take may so have ordered my mind that the fact of meeting
unbaited steel had little power to move me.
Be that as it may, I engaged the Count without a tremor either of
the flesh or of the spirit. I was resolved to wait and let him open
the play, that I might have an opportunity of measuring his power
and seeing how best I might dispose of him. I was determined to do
him no hurt, and to leave him, as I had sworn, to the headsman; and
so, either by pressure or by seizure, it was my aim to disarm him.
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