we saluted, and the count at once began a furious attack. I think that
on any ordinary occasion he would have proved the better man; he was
fully as strong as myself, and as good in the wind--for he lived
temperately; and he had had more experience. But to-day, as I soon
discovered, he was flurried and made mistakes; twice in the first five
minutes I could have disarmed him, and once I very nearly had his life.
He was foolhardy to an extraordinary degree; his eyes were unsteady; it
seemed to me that he was thinking of something else; and before we had
been long engaged I discovered that he was thinking of two things, the
first, his own certain death, the second, the state of mind of the
Marchese Semifonte. My finding out of the second of these made me
resolute to bring about the first of them; otherwise, so wildly was he
at work I don't believe I could have brought myself to kill such a tyro
as he was proving.

The fact which determined me to kill him was this. I had pushed him
vigorously, after parrying with ease half a dozen of his frenzied
attacks--I had pushed him, and he had given ground as usual; but,
although I did not perceive it at the time, in giving way he had worked
back towards his second, who had not budged; so that, as I advanced, I
got to be actually within wounding distance of the marchese. Bob Malcolm
ought to have knocked our swords up, no doubt; but he did not. In the
full tide of my attack, then, when I had my man almost at my mercy, I
felt a sudden and sharp pain in the side, and at the same moment heard
Malcolm's cry, "Ah, bloody villain, none of that!" Almost immediately I
heard the clash of swords, and turning my head for a moment, saw our
seconds engaged. In that same instant of forgetfulness Giraldi was upon
me, lunged furiously and ran his blade through my sword arm. There was
an assassination, planned and nearly achieved!