"A good morning." replied the other, and they politely raised their little cocked hats.
"I had some misgivings when monsieur did not return to me," said the Frenchman. "Sir William has accepted my challenge?"
"Yes, monsieur, and is now before you," replied the other, springing on horseback. "I am Sir William Hope, of Hopetoun, and am here at your service."
"You!" exclaimed the Frenchman, in tones of blended astonishment and grief. "Ah! unsay what you have said. I cannot point my sword against the breast of my best benefactor--against him to whom I owe both honour and life. Can I forget that night on the plains of Arras? Ah, my God! what a mistake: what a misfortune. Ah, Athalie! to what have you so unthinkingly urged me?"
"Think of her only, and forget all of me, save that I am your antagonist, your enemy, as I stand between thee and her. Come on, M. Lemercier, do not forget your promise to mademoiselle; we will sheathe our swords on the first blood drawn."
"So be it then, if the first is thine," and unsheathing their long and keen-edged rapiers, they put spurs to their horses, and closing up hand to hand, engaged with admirable skill and address.
The skill of one swordsman seemed equalled only by that of the other.
Lemercier was the first fencer at the Court of France, where fencing was an accomplishment known to all, and there was no man in Britain equal to Sir William Hope, whose "Complete Fencing Master" was long famous among the lovers of the noble science of defence.
They rode round each other in circles. Warily and sternly they began to watch each other's eyes, till they flashed in unison with their blades; their hearts beat quicker as their passions became excited and their rivalry roused; and their nerves became strung as the hope of conquest was whetted. The wish of merely being wounded ended in a desire to wound; and the desire to wound in a clamorous anxiety to vanquish and destroy. Save the incessant clash of the notched rapiers, as each deadly thrust was adroitly parried and furiously repeated, the straining of stirrup-leathers, as each fencer swayed to and fro in his saddle, their suppressed breathing, and the champing of iron bits, Lemercier and his foe saw nothing but the gleam, and heard nothing but the clash of each other's glittering swords.