Part 3 (2/2)

When he came near Alice she was taking from its buckhorn hook on the wall a rapier, one of a beautiful pair hanging side by side.

”Papa Roussillon gave me these,” she said with great animation. ”He bought them of an Indian who had kept them a long time; where he came across them he would not tell; but look how beautiful! Did you ever see anything so fine?”

Guard and hilt were of silver; the blade, although somewhat corroded, still showed the fine wavy lines of Damascus steel and traces of delicate engraving, while in the end of the hilt was set a large oval turquoise.

”A very queer present to give a girl,” said Rene; ”what can you do with them?”

A captivating flash of playfulness came into her face and she sprang backward, giving the sword a semicircular turn with her wrist. The blade sent forth a keen hiss as it cut the air close, very close to Rene's nose. He jerked his head and flung up his hand.

She laughed merrily, standing beautifully poised before him, the rapier's point slightly elevated. Her short skirt left her feet and ankles free to show their graceful proportions and the perfect pose in which they held her supple body.

”You see what I can do with the colechemarde, eh, Monsieur Rene de Ronville!” she exclaimed, giving him a smile which fairly blinded him.

”Notice how very near to your neck I can thrust and yet not touch it.

Now!”

She darted the keen point under his chin and drew it away so quickly that the stroke was like a glint of sunlight.

”What do you think of that as a nice and accurate piece of skill?”

She again resumed her pose, the right foot advanced, the left arm well back, her lissome, finely developed body leaning slightly forward.

Rene's hands were up before his face in a defensive position, palms outward.

Just then a chorus of men's voices sounded in the distance. The river house was beginning its carousal with a song. Alice let fall her sword's point and listened.

Rene looked about for his cap.

”I must be going,” he said.

Another and louder swish of the rapier made him pirouette and dodge again with great energy.

”Don't,” he cried, ”that's dangerous; you'll put out my eyes; I never saw such a girl!”

She laughed at him and kept on whipping the air dangerously near his eyes, until she had driven him backward as far as he could squeeze himself into a comer of the room.

Madame Roussillon came to the door from the kitchen and stood looking in and laughing, with her hands on her hips. By this time the rapier was making a criss-cross pattern of flas.h.i.+ng lines close to the young man's head while Alice, in the enjoyment of her exercise, seemed to concentrate all the glowing rays of her beauty in her face, her eyes dancing merrily.

”Quit, now, Alice,” he begged, half in fun and half in abject fear; ”please quit--I surrender!”

She thrust to the wall on either side of him, then springing lightly backward a pace, stood at guard. Her thick yellow hair had fallen over her neck and shoulders in a loose wavy ma.s.s, out of which her face beamed with a bewitching effect upon her captive.

Rene, glad enough to have a cessation of his peril, stood laughing dryly; but the singing down at the river house was swelling louder and he made another movement to go.

”You surrendered, you remember,” cried Alice, renewing the sword-play; ”sit down on the chair there and make yourself comfortable. You are not going down yonder to-night; you are going to stay here and talk with me and Mother Roussillon; we are lonesome and you are good company.”

A shot rang out keen and clear; there was a sudden tumult that broke up the distant singing; and presently more firing at varying intervals cut the night air from the direction of the river.

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