His sword flashed in a continuous line of light, and the whirring of steel upon steel was unceasing.

But the face of Nemours, as he watched with an understanding eye, fell a little.

He saw that the breathing of young Lennox was long and regular, and that his eye was still smiling.
Robert continued to give ground, but he never took his eye from that of de Mezy, and at last the count began to feel that something lay behind that calm, smiling gaze.

The drink and the multitude of lost hours came back to demand their price.

Something bit into his bone.