But Tignonville retired his right foot nimbly, which brought them front to front again.

And the younger man laughed.
"Try again, M.le Comte!" he said.

And, with the word, he dashed in himself quick as light; for a second the blades ground on one another, the daggers hovered, the two suffused faces glared into one another; then the pair disengaged again.
The blood trickled from a scratch on Count Hannibal's neck; half an inch to the right and the point had found his throat.

And Tignonville, elated, laughed anew, and swaying from side to side on his hips, watched with growing confidence for a second chance.

Lithe as one of the leopards Charles kept at the Louvre, he stooped lower and lower, and more and more with each moment took the attitude of the assailant, watching for an opening; while Count Hannibal, his face dark and his eyes vigilant, stood increasingly on the defence.