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 *sive tactics—for the interval had cooled my temper—until, by a little dastardly, unswordsmanlike trick, he tried to catch me at a disadvantage. In an instant my passion flamed up beyond restraint, and before there was time for me to regain control of my temper, an opening came in his guard, and, unable to stay the fighting instinct to take advantage of it, I ran my sword through his neck.

The blood came gushing out in a full crimson stream from the wound and through his parted lips, dyeing his shirt front; he staggered back, his sword dropped from his nerveless grasp, and he fell to the ground with a groan.

I looked on more than a little aghast at my work. If he should die! And at the thought the picture of Christina's face as she would meet me flashed before my eyes, and for the moment I would have given all I was worth to have called back that laggard thrust.

Zoiloff and Spernow came and stood by me, as I waited, sword in hand, to know if the fierce combat was to go on still further. Then his chief second crossed to us, and in a formal tone said:

"My principal can fight no longer."

"Is the hurt dangerous? Will he die?" I asked, and the man glanced at me in evident surprise at the concern in my tone.

"Not necessarily. The wound is severe, but the doctor says the artery has not been touched." Then after a pause he added, as if in involuntary compliment to the skill I had shown: "It is surprising that the fight lasted so long, Count Benderoff. I can bear witness that he owes his life to your forbearance." And with a bow as formal as his tone he went back to the others.