My sword begins to fail me, and your pupil gets more skillful, and stronger in the wrist, every day.

In the days when I was at Saint Germains with the king, when the cropheads lorded it here, I could hold my own with the best of your young blades.

But even allowing fully for the stiffness of age, I think I can still gauge the strength of an opponent, and I think the boy promises to be of premiere force." "It is as you say, monsieur le colonel.

My pupil is born to be a fencer; he learns it with all his heart; he has had two good teachers for three years; he has worked with all his energy at it; and he has one of those supple strong wrists that seem made for the sword.

He presses me hard.
"Now, Monsieur Rupert, open play, and do your best." Then began a struggle which would have done credit to any fencing school in Europe.