in exchange I touched him
playfully on the shoulder, and the sting of it drove him back a second
time. He was breathing hard by then, and would fain have paused awhile for
breath, but I saw no reason to be merciful.
"Now, sir," I cried, saluting him as though our combat were but on the
point of starting--"to me! Guard yourself!"
Again our swords clashed, and my blows now fell as swift on his blade as
his had done awhile ago on mine. So hard did I press him that he was
forced to give way before me. Back I drove him pace by pace, his wrist
growing weaker at each parry, each parry growing wider, and the
perspiration streaming down his ashen face. Panting he went, in that
backward flight before my onslaught, defending himself as best he could,
never thinking of a riposte--beaten already. Back, and yet back he went,
until he reached the railings and could back no farther, and so broken was
his spirit then that a groan escaped him. I answered with a laugh--my mood
was lusty and cruel--and thrust at him. Then, eluding his guard, I thrust
again, beneath it, and took him fairly in the middle of his doublet.
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