He detested Bigot, Cadet, Pean and all their corrupt
crowd, while recognizing the fact that they were almost supreme in
Quebec. It would be pleasing to the gods for de Mezy to be humiliated,
and it did not matter if the humiliation came from the hands of a
Bostonnais.
"Would you mind trying a round or two at the foils with me?" he said to
Willet. "Since you don't have to fight in the morning you needn't fear
any stiffening of the wrist, and I should like to learn something about
that low thrust of yours, the one well beneath your opponent's guard,
and which only a movement like lightning can reach. You used it five
times, unless my eye missed a sixth."
"And so you noticed it!" said Willet, looking pleased. "I made six such
thrusts, but Robert met them every time. I've trained him to be on the
watch for it, because in a real combat it's sure to be fatal, unless
it's parried with the swiftness of thought."
"Then teach me," said de Galisonniere eagerly. "We're a fighting lot
here in Quebec, and it may save my life some day.
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