“Like the priests of Aricia. The same system precisely as established by His Holiness the Pope. It works remarkably well in the Grey Musketeers.” Beaudésir looked at the Captain, and said in a low, agitated voice— “I am most anxious to serve under you. I can be faithful, attentive—above all, obedient. I have no friends, no resources, nothing to care for. I only wish for an honest livelihood and an honourable death.” “We can find you both, I doubt not,” answered George, carelessly opening once more the muster-roll of the company. “I have your name down and your age; no further particulars. Where were you educated?” “In a school of silence, vigilance, self-restraint, and implicit obedience,” answered the recruit. “Good,” observed his captain; “but we must put down a name.” “At Avranches, in Normandy,” said the other, after a moment’s hesitation. George closed the roll. “Enough for the present,” said he; “and now tell me, monsieur, as between friends, where did you learn to fence with so much address?” “Wherever I could find a foil with a button on,” was the reply. “I never had a naked sword in my hand till last night.” Something in the ready simplicity of such an answer pleased the captain of musketeers, while it interested him still more in his recruit. “You must be careful of your parries amongst your new comrades,” said he; “at least till you have measured the force of each. I warn you fairly, one-half the company will want to try your mettle, and the other half to learn your secret, even at the cost of an awkward thrust or two. In the meantime, let us see what you can do. There are a brace of foils in the cupboard there. Bras-de-Fer, will you give him a benefit?” But Bras-de-Fer shook his head. What he had seen the night before had inspired him with an extraordinary respect for the youth’s prowess, and being justly vain of his own skill, he was averse to expose his inferiority in the science of defence before his captain. He excused himself, therefore, on the ground of rheumatism which had settled in an old wound. Captain George did not press the veteran, but opening the cupboard, pulled out the foils, presented one to his visitor, and put himself in position with the other. Beaudésir performed an elaborate salute with such grace and precision as showed him a perfect master of his weapon. He then threw his foil in the air, caught it by the blade, and returned it courteously to the captain. But George was not yet satisfied. “One assault at least,” said he, stamping his right foot. “I want to see if I cannot find a parry for this famous thrust of yours.” The other smiled quietly and took his ground. Though within a few inches of the chamber-door, he seemed to require no more room for his close and quiet evolutions.