But he smiled it down.  “I am not sensitive, sir.  Besides, it gives me joy.”

I supposed he was thinking of Lotzen.

After a short rest, Moore and I faced each other.

“Let us cut the parades,” I said—­and Bernheim gave the word to engage.

Without conceit I can say that I am more than moderately skillful with the sword.  It is, possibly, the one hobby of my life.  My father and grandfather before me were strong fencers, and one of my earliest recollections is being given a toy foil and put through the parades.  There is a saying that “a swordsman is born not made,” and it is a true one.  But, unless there is hard study and training from childhood, the birth gift is wasted and there is only a made-fencer in the end.  My good sire had appreciated this fact, and not only gave me the best instructors obtainable in America, but, in my second year’s vacation from “The Point,” he took me to Paris and kept me hard at work under the best French maitres.  From that time on, I had practiced assiduously, and spending all my leaves in Europe and fencing in all the best schools of the Continent.

Our blades had little more than crossed when I knew that it would take all my skill to hold my own, even for a short time.  Moore was, far and away, the best fencer I had ever encountered; and I thought I had faced about all the famous ones of first force.  His agility was amazing; his wrist like steel; his anticipation masterly.  For every time I touched him, he touched me twice; though none, on either side, would have been more than a scratch.  Then, in the midst of a fierce rally, I forced a pretty opening and I thrust.  No guard seemed possible—­it was a sure coeur.  The next instant, there came a wrench, that almost tore off my fingers, and my foil flew across the room.  Moore had led me into the final position of Lotzen’s attack, and had disarmed me exactly as he had the Duke.

I held out my left hand to him—­the right still tingled.

“Beautiful!” I said.  “It’s a marvellous defence and marvellously done.”

Moore bowed very low over my hand.  “It is a pleasure to serve under Your Highness,” he said.

“Aye! that it is,” said Bernheim.

He would be a very queer individual who would not be affected by such sincerity; and I told them so, and feelingly.

Then Moore showed me the attack and its two defences; and I practiced them with him until I had them perfectly at command.

“What would be my chances against Lotzen?” I asked.

“You could kill him easily,” said Moore.  “Only, be careful of his play in tierce; he is very strong in that.”

“I don’t know that I want to kill him,” I said.  “Yet, neither do I care for him to kill me.”

Both looked at me in quick interrogation.  I motioned for them to sit down.

“I’ve had a visit from the Duke, this afternoon,” I said.  And I told them the entire interview.