Angelo said, ‘You are a good soldier:  you are a bad priest.  Come on.’

A nod of magnanimous resignation to the duties of his office was the captain’s signal of readiness.  He knew exactly the method of fighting which Angelo must adopt, and he saw that his adversary was supple, and sinewy, and very keen of eye.  But, what can well compensate for even one additional inch of steel?  A superior weapon wielded by a trained wrist in perfect coolness means victory, by every reasonable reckoning.  In the present instance, it meant nothing other than an execution, as he had said.  His contemplation of his own actual share in the performance was nevertheless unpleasant; and it was but half willingly that he straightened out his sword and then doubled his arm.  He lessened the odds in his favour considerably by his too accurate estimation of them.  He was also a little unmanned by the thought that a woman was to see him using his advantage; but she stood firm in her distant corner, refusing to be waved out of sight.  Weisspriess had again to assure himself that it was not a duel, but the enforced execution of a criminal who would not surrender, and who was in his way.  Fronting a creature that would vainly assail him, and temporarily escape impalement by bounding and springing, dodging and backing, now here now there, like a dangling bob-cherry, his military gorge rose with a sickness of disgust.  He had to remember as vividly as he could realize it, that this man’s life was forfeited, and that the slaughter of him was a worthy service to Countess Anna; also, that there were present reasons for desiring to be quit of him.  He gave Angelo two thrusts, and bled him.  The skill which warded off the more vicious one aroused his admiration.

‘Pardon my blundering,’ he said; ’I have never engaged a saltimbanque before.’

They recommenced.  Weisspriess began to weigh the sagacity of his opponent’s choice of open ground, where he could lengthen the discourse of steel by retreating and retreating, and swinging easily to right or to left.  In the narrow track the sword would have transfixed him after a single feint.  He was amused.  Much of the cat was in his combative nature.  An idea of disabling or dismembering Angelo, and forwarding him to Meran, caused him to trifle further with the edge of the blade.  Angelo took a cut, and turned it on his arm; free of the deadly point, he rushed in and delivered a stab; but Weisspriess saved his breast.  Quick, they resumed their former positions.

‘I am really so unused to this game!’ said Weisspriess, apologetically.

He was pale:  his unsteady breathing, and a deflection of his dripping sword-wrist, belied his coolness.  Angelo plunged full on him, dropped, and again reached his right arm; they hung, getting blood for blood, with blazing interpenetrating eyes; a ghastly work of dark hands at half lock thrusting, and savage eyes reading the fiery pages of the book of hell.  At last the Austrian got loose from the lock and hurled him off.