slightly. The rigidity of his pose slackened. The hilt and hand
against my breast wavered, then the arm drooped to his side till the
rapier point rested on the lawn. By this time Pasquini and de Goncourt
had sprung to him and he was sinking into their arms. In faith, it was
harder for me to withdraw the steel than to drive it in. His flesh clung
about it as if jealous to let it depart. Oh, believe me, it required a
distinct physical effort to get clear of what I had done.

But the pang of the withdrawal must have stung him back to life and
purpose, for he shook off his friends, straightened himself, and lifted
his rapier into position. I, too, took position, marvelling that it was
possible I had spitted him heart-high and yet missed any vital spot.
Then, and before his friends could catch him, his legs crumpled under him
and he went heavily to grass. They laid him on his back, but he was
already dead, his face ghastly still under the moon, his right hand still
a-clutch of the rapier.

Yes; it is indeed a marvellous easy thing to kill a man.

We saluted his friends and were about to depart, when Felix Pasquini
detained me.

"Pardon me," I said. "Let it be to-morrow."

"We have but to move a step aside," he urged, "where the grass is still
dry."

"Let me then wet it for you, Sainte-Maure," Lanfranc asked of me, eager
himself to do for an Italian.

I shook my head.

"Pasquini is mine," I answered. "He shall be first to-morrow."

"Are there others?" Lanfranc demanded.

"Ask de Goncourt," I grinned. "I imagine he is already laying claim to
the honour of being the third."

At this, de Goncourt showed distressed acquiescence. Lanfranc looked
inquiry at him, and de Goncourt nodded.

"And after him I doubt not comes the cockerel," I went on.

And even as I spoke the red-haired Guy de Villehardouin, alone, strode to
us across the moonlit grass.

"At least I shall have him," Lanfranc cried, his voice almost wheedling,
so great was his desire.

"Ask him," I laughed, then turned to Pasquini. "To-morrow," I said. "Do
you name time and place, and I shall be there."

"The grass is most excellent," he teased, "the place is most excellent,
and I am minded that Fortini has you for company this night."

"'Twere better he were accompanied by a friend," I quipped. "And now
your pardon, for I must go."

But he blocked my path.

"Whoever it be," he said, "let it be now."

For the first time, with him,