It was rather wild play, but it was amusing to watch, and Gianluca looked on with delighted appreciation.  She was so slight and graceful, and yet so quick and strong.  As for Taquisara, he was glad when she drew back, took her mask from her face, and said that it was enough.

“You ought to know that you can hardly ever disarm a left-handed person when you are engaged in carte,” observed Gianluca, looking at Taquisara.

Though he had never been in a quarrel in his life, he had been passionately fond of fencing, and in his real interest in what he had seen he did not even think of complimenting Veronica.  She was keen enough to feel that his scientific remark was better than any flattery.

Taquisara shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

“Donna Veronica fences like a man,” he said.  “And I am not very good at it either.  She would have killed me two or three times!”

“You never really attacked me,” she answered, flushed and happy.  “By the by,” she added, seeing that he was looking over the other foils, “one of those is sharp—­the one with the green hilt—­be careful not to take it by mistake if we fence again, for you might really kill me.”

“How did it come here?” he asked, taking up the one she indicated.

“It was lying about at the Princess Corleone’s.  I took it by mistake, I suppose, with my things.  I believe that Signor Ghisleri brought it to show her, one day.  I think he said it had been used.”

She threw off her leathern jacket, and tossed the other things aside.

“Let us fence a little every day,” she said.  “That is, if you will really fence, instead of playing with me.”

“I am certainly not able to play with you,” he answered.  “And I shall wear a jacket next time.”

“You are wonderful,” said Gianluca, still watching her with admiration.

The storm had passed, and the rain was over.  Before long the Duca and Duchessa would appear for tea, and Taquisara said that he would go for a walk.  Veronica rang and had the room set in order again, and sat down by Gianluca.  The exercise had done her good, and she still felt that fierce little satisfaction at having fought with Taquisara.  There was an unwonted colour in her cheeks, and her brown hair had been somewhat ruffled by the mask.  Her hands were warm, and tingled, and she felt intensely alive.  It had been pleasant, for once, to put out all her energy in something like a real struggle.

Little by little her sensations wore off, and she was quite quiet again, but the recollection of them remained and made her wish to renew them every day.

“You are wonderful,” Gianluca repeated, when they had talked of other things for a while.  “Taquisara is not a fencing-master, but he is as good as most men, and better than many.  You gave him trouble, I could see.  It was all he could do to defend himself against you, sometimes.”

“Did it amuse you to watch us?” asked Veronica.