seeking to distract Maurice. "Tell me,
and I will pin it to you."

Not a muscle moved in Maurice's face.

"It is too, bad," went on Beauvais, "that her Highness finds a lover
only to lose him. You fool! I read your eyes when you picked up that
rose. Princesses are not for such as you. I will find her a lover, it
will be neither you nor Prince Frederick--ah! you caught that nicely.
But you depend too much on the wrist. Presently it will tire; and
then--pouf!"

Now and then a a flame, darting from the grate, sparkled on the polished
steel, and from the steel it shot into the watchful eyes. A quarter
of an hour passed; still Maurice remained on the defensive. At first
Beauvais misunderstood the reason, and thought Maurice did not dare run
the risk of passing from defensive to offensive. But by and by the froth
of impatience crept into his veins. He could not penetrate above or
below that defense. The man before him was of marble, with a wrist of
iron; he neither smiled nor spoke, there was no sign of life at all,
except in the agile legs, the wrist, and eyes. The Colonel decided to
change his tactics.

"When I have killed you," he said, "I shall search your pockets, for
I know that you lie when you say that you have not those certificates.
Madame was a fool to send you. No man lives who may be trusted. And what
is your game? Save the Osians? Small good it will do you. Her Highness
will wed Prince Frederick--mayhap--and all you will get is cold thanks.
And in such an event, have you reckoned on Madame the duchess? War! And
who will win? Madame; for she has not only her own army, but mine. Come,
come! Speak, for when you leave this room your voice will be silent.
Make use of the gift, since it is about to leave you."

The reply was a sudden straightening of the arm. The blade slipped in
between the Colonel's forearm and body, and was out again before the
soldier fully comprehended what had happened. Maurice permitted a cold
smile to soften the rigidity of his face. Beauvais saw the smile, and
read it. The thrust had been rendered harmless intentionally. An inch
nearer, and he had been a dead man. To accomplish such a delicate piece
of sword play required nothing short of mastery. Beauvais experienced a
disagreeable chill, which was not unmixed with chagrin. The boy had held
his life in his hand, and had spared it. He set his teeth, and let loose
with a fury before which nothing could stand; and Maurice was forced
back