"I do not think so," replied Borromee, biting his lips with anger.

"Well! I am sure of it."

"M. Briquet, who is so clever, had better try Jacques himself," replied
Borromee, in a bitter tone.

"Oh! I am old."

"Yes, but learned."

"Ah! you mock," thought Chicot, "but wait." Then he said, "I am certain,
however, that Brother Borromee, like a wise master, often let Jacques
touch him out of complaisance."

"Ah!" cried Jacques, frowning in his turn.

"No," replied Borromee, "I love Jacques, certainly, but I do not spoil
him in that manner. But try yourself, M. Briquet."

"Oh, no."

"Come, only one pass."

"Try," said Gorenflot.

"I will not hurt you, monsieur," said Jacques, "I have a very light
hand."

"Dear child," murmured Chicot, with a strange glance. "Well!" said he,
"since every one wishes it, I will try," and he rose slowly, and
prepared himself with about the agility of a tortoise.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE LESSON.

Fencing was not at that time the science that it is now. The swords,
sharp on each side, made them strike as often with the edge as with the
point; besides, the left hand, armed with a dagger, was at the same time
offensive and defensive, and hence resulted a number of slight wounds,
which, in a real combat, kept up a continual excitement. Fencing, then
in its infancy, consisted in a crowd of evolutions, in which the actor
moved continually, and which, on a ground chosen by chance, might be
continually impeded by its nature.

It was common to see the fencer throw himself forward, draw back again,
or jump to the right or left, so that agility, not only of the hand, but
of the whole body, was necessary. Chicot did not appear to have learned
in this school, but seemed to have forestalled the modern style, of
which the superiority and grace is in the agility of the hands and
immovability of the body. He stood erect and firm, with a wrist at once
strong and supple, and with a sword which seemed a flexible reed from
the point to the middle of the blade, and an inflexible steel from
thence to the guard.

At the very first commencement, Jacques, seeing before him this man of
bronze, whose wrist alone seemed alive, gave some impatient passes,
which merely made Chicot extend his arm, and at every opening left by
the young man, strike him full on the chest. Jacques, red with anger and
emulation as this was repeated, bounded back, and for ten minutes
displayed all the resources of his