He laughed at the attempt, as with a suddenness that I had been far from expecting he disengaged again, and his point darted like a snake upwards at my throat.
I parried that thrust, but I only parried it when it was within some three inches of my neck, and even as I turned it aside it missed me as narrowly as it might without tearing my skin.

The imminence of the peril had been such that, as we mutually recovered, I found a cold sweat bathing me.
After that, I resolved to abandon the attempt to disarm him by pressure, and I turned my attention to drawing him into a position that might lend itself to seizure.

But even as I was making up my mind to this--we were engaged in sixte at the time--I saw a sudden chance.

His point was held low while he watched me; so low that his arm was uncovered and my point was in line with it.

To see the opening, to estimate it, and to take my resolve was all the work of a fraction of a second.