Even as the sparks flew from our swords, and I felt that I had met a master of fence, I knew it was Simon despite his mask. There lived not a man like him. Tall and thin, with long, bird-like limbs and a stooping back, with the features concealed by the white mask all but the eyes, which glittered like those of an angry asp, he seemed more spirit than man; and I felt as if I were crossing blade with some uncanny phantom of the woods rather than a thing of flesh and blood, as after a fierce bout we circled round, watching each other warily. "So, brother, we meet at last," I said. But he made no answer, though his eyes flashed evilly as he came on again with a swift, lightning attack that chance alone enabled me to avoid. And then my life was on my wrist and eye; but I kept it, and began to slowly force him back. God forgive me! he was my brother; but he would have slain me there like a mad dog--and life is dear. He never said a word until he was being driven back, and then an oath broke from him. 'Tis an ill thing to swear with a sword in one's hand. That oath gave me strength and cooled me to ice. "Come!" I said, "you would not slay your heir; or are you going to make room for me, Simon?" And my sword point ripped his doublet. The answer was a thrust that ripped my coat in turn, and then followed the rasp of our blades. It was almost dark above us now, but a lance height from the ground the horizon was still flaming red. We could barely see each other's blades, but guided ourselves by the little circles of light the sword points made as they flashed hither and thither, seeking for an opening, to slip forward like a snake's tongue. Twice had I been touched. The first time it was a parry _en prime_ that saved me; the second time Simon had hit me on my bridle arm. It was only a touch; but I felt the warm blood on my sleeve, and Simon laughed like a devil. But he mistook his man. Collecting all my strength I made so furious an attack that I slowly drove him against the belting of trees, and then there was a lightning thrust in tierce, a quick parry, and a return over Simon's heart, but the point of my blade glanced from a steel vest he wore. In glancing, however, it slipped upwards, and catching the mask almost rent it from my brother's face, leaving it half hanging, and almost blinding him. In my fury I followed up the thrust with another, but with the skill that was his alone he partly parried it, though my blade found his sword arm, just above the elbow joint; but as Simon's now useless hand fell to his side he saw his defeat, and, with matchless presence of mind, drove his spurs into his horse, and dashing off at full speed was lost to view in a moment.