Arms and the Woman

The innkeeper's knife was so close that I could feel the point of it

against my ribs. So I gave up the wild idea of yelling from the window

that I hadn't run away.

The lieutenant's opponent shrugged. He placed himself on guard; that

was his reply. Suddenly the two sprang forward, and the clash of

swords followed. I could not keep track of the weapons, but I could

see that the youngster was holding his own amazingly well. Neither was

touched the first bout.

"Two minutes," murmured the old rascal at my side. "It will be over

this time."

"You seem to have a good deal of confidence in your young man," said I.

"There is not a finer swords--swordsman in the kingdom, or on the

continent, for that matter. There! they are at it again."

Step by step the lieutenant gave ground; the clashing had stopped; it

was needle-like work now. Gradually they began to turn around. The

blades flashed in the moonshine like heat lightning. My pulse attuned

itself to every stroke. I heard a laugh. It was full of scorn. The

laugh--it recalled to me a laugh I had heard before. Evidently the

youngster was playing with the veteran. I became fascinated. And

while the innkeeper and I watched a curious thing happened. Something

seemed to be slipping from the youngster's head; he tried to put up his

free hand, but the lieutenant was making furious passes! A flood of

something dimly yellow suddenly fell about the lad's shoulders. Oh,

then I knew! With a snarl of rage I took the inn-keeper by the throat

and hurled him, knife and all, to the floor, dashed from the room,

thence to the stairs, down which I leaped four at a time. Quick as I

was, I was too late. The lieutenant's sword lay on the grass, and he

was clasping his shoulder with the sweat of agony on his brow.

"Damnation!" he groaned; "a woman!" Then he tottered and fell in the

arms of his subordinate. He had fainted.

"This will make a pretty story," cried the young officer, as he laid

his superior lengthwise, and tried to staunch the flow of blood.

"Here's a man who runs away, and lets a woman--God knows what

sort--fight his duels for him, the cur!"

I never looked at him, but went straight to Gretchen. Stahlberg gave

me a questioning glance, and made a move as though to step between.

"Stand aside, man!" I snapped. "Gretchen, you have dishonored me."