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I saw that
if I put him on the defensive I should have him at advantage, for he
had not that art of the true swordsman, the prescient quality which
foretells the opponents action and stands prepared. There I had him
at fatal advantage--could, I felt, give him last reward of insult
at my pleasure. Yet a lust of fighting got into me, and it was
difficult to hold myself in check at all, nor was it easy to meet
his breathless and adroit advances.
Then, too, remarks from the bystanders worked me up to a deep sort
of anger, and I could feel Doltaire looking at me with that still,
cold face of his, an ironical smile at his lips. Now and then, too,
a ribald jest came from some young roisterer near, and the fact
that I stood alone among sneering enemies wound me up to a point
where pride was more active than aught else. I began to press him a
little, and I pricked him once. Then a singular feeling possessed
me. I would bring this to an end when I had counted ten; I would
strike home when I said "ten."
So I began, and I was not aware then that I was counting aloud.


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