But on his side also he entered upon the duel with all caution and
wariness. From his rage I had hoped for a wild, angry rush that
should afford me an easy opportunity of gaining my ends with him.
Not so, however. Now that he came with steel to defend his life and
to seek mine, he appeared to have realized the importance of having
keen wits to guide his hand; and so he put his anger from him, and
emerged calm and determined from his whilom disorder.
Some preliminary passes we made from the first engagement in the
lines of tierce, each playing warily for an opening, yet neither of
us giving ground or betraying haste or excitement. Now his blade
slithered on mine with a ceaseless tremor; his eyes watched mine
from under lowering brows, and with knees bent he crouched like a
cat making ready for a spring. Then it came. Sudden as lightning
was his disengage; he darted under my guard, then over it, then
back and under it again, and stretching out in the lunge - his
double-feint completed - he straightened his arm to drive home the
botte.
But with a flying point I cleared his blade out of the line of my
body. There had been two sharp tinkles of our meeting swords, and
now Chatellerault stood at his fullest stretch, the half of his
steel past and behind me, for just a fraction of time completely
at my mercy. Yet I was content to stand, and never move my blade
from his until he had recovered and we were back in our first
position once again.
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