It is in his blood; he uses his rapier with a wild and angry grace that is feline.
The Frenchman, even when he is thoroughly serious in his desire to slay, loves a duel for its own sake; he is never free from the thought of the picture he is making; the art, the science, the practical cleverness, appeal to him independently of the bloodshed.
The Italian thinks of but one thing; to kill.

He will take a severe wound to give a fatal one.

The French are the best fencers in the world; the Italians the deadliest duelists.
Cleggett, as has been said, knew all the schools without being the slave of any of them.
He brought his sword en tierce; Loge's blade met his with strength and delicacy.

The strength Cleggett was prepared for.

The delicacy surprised him.