scarlet. Lucas flourished the sword.

"The boy there caught at a glance what you had not found out in a
fortnight. He gets to the duke and blocks my game--for to-day. But if
they sent him ahead to hold us till their men came up, they were fools,
too. I'll have the duke yet, and I'll have you now."

He rushed at the unarmed Yeux-gris. The latter darted at Grammont's
fallen sword, seized it, was on guard, all in the second before Lucas
reached him. He might have been in a fortnight's trance, but he was
awake at last.

I trembled for him, then took heart again, as he parried thrust after
thrust and pressed Lucas hard. I had never seen a man fight with his
left arm before; I had not realized it could be done, being myself
helpless with that hand. But as I watched this combat I speedily
perceived how dangerous is a left-handed adversary. In later years I was
to understand better, when M. le Comte had become known the length of
the land by the title "Le Gaucher." But at this time he was in the
habit, like the rest of the world, of fencing with his right hand; his
dexterity with the other he rated only as a pretty accomplishment to
surprise the crowd. He used his left hand scarcely as well as Lucas the
right; yet, the thrust sinister being in itself a strength, they were
not badly matched. I stood watching with all my eyes, when of a sudden I
felt a grasp on my ankle and the next instant was thrown heavily to the
pavement.

Grammont had come to life and taken prompt part in the fray.

I fell close to him, and instantly he let go my leg and wound his arms
around me. I tried to rise and could not, and we rolled about together
in the wine and blood and broken glass. All the while I heard the
sword-blades clashing. Yeux-gris, God be thanked! seemed to be holding
his own.

Fighting Gervais was like fighting two men. Slowly but steadily he
pressed me down and held me. I struggled for dear life--and could not
push him back an inch.

I still held my knife but my arms were pinned down. Gervais raised
himself a little to get a better clutch, and his fingers closed on my
throat. One grip, and life seemed flowing from me. My arm was free now
if I could but lift it. If I could not, nevermore should I lift it on
this sunny earth. I did lift it, and drove the dagger deep into him.

I could not take aim; I could not tell where the knife struck. A gasp
showed he was hit; then he clinched my throat once more. Sight went from
me, and