The stranger sat down a little wearily, and Rodriguez sitting upon
the dust took off his left shoe. And now he began to think a
little wistfully of the face that had shone from that balcony,
where all was dark now in black shadow unlit by the moon. The
emptiness of the balcony and its darkness oppressed him; for he
could scarcely hope to survive an encounter with that swordsman,
whose skill he now recognised as being of a different class from
his own, a class of which he knew nothing. All his own feints and
passes were known, while those of his antagonist had been strange
and new, and he might well have even others. The stranger's
giddiness did not alter the situation, for Rodriguez knew that his
handicap was fair and even generous. He believed he was near his
grave, and could see no spark of light to banish that dark belief;
yet more chances than we can see often guard us on such occasions.
The absence of Serafina saddened him like a sorrowful sunset.
Rodriguez rose and limped with his one shoe off to the stranger,
who was sitting upon his kerchief.
"I will bandage my right eye now, senor," he said.
The young man rose and shook the dust from the kerchief and gave
it to Rodriguez with a renewed expression of his gratitude at the
fairness of the strange handicap. When Rodriguez had bandaged his
eye the stranger returned his sword to him, which he had held in
his hand since his effort to beat Morano, and drawing his own
stepped back a few paces from him.
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