Black Mask was much the slimmer.
But every muscle in his frame seemed made of steel.

His gigantic adversary might pitch and toss him wherever he pleased, he always fell on his feet; nor was the other ever able, squeeze as he might, to disjoint his arms or free his own head from Fatia Negra's embrace, though again and again he ducked down to do it; and then they would struggle more fiercely than ever, on their knees, with their limbs interlaced like one single, inseparable quivering mass of flesh.
"'If I could only see your hidden face!' roared Juon, throwing himself with all his might on Black Mask.

'You devil, you, I'll tear your mummery off for you!'-- and he gnashed at his opponent's face with his teeth, trying to snap his mask off.
"This attempt seemed to redouble Fatia Negra's fury.

He too now began roaring like a wounded bear, struggling with a huntsman.

It was no longer a struggle between men, but a ravening of two beasts.