It was now Jackson's turn to laugh. He gave a contemptuous chuckle as he pressed forward to follow up his advantage. He did not succeed in touching Nicolo, though he went very close to him more than once, and now it was plain that the Italian was greatly exhausted. He was breathing hard, and the look of apprehension on his face had increased until it had actually become one of terror. Jackson did not fail to perceive this, and malignant triumph was in every feature of his face. Any one could see that he felt confident of tiring out the visibly fatigued Italian, and Goldsmith, with staring eyes, once again clutched Baretti. Baretti's yellow skin became wrinkled up to the meeting place of his wig and forehead in smiles. “I should like the third button of his coat for a memento, Sandrino,” said he. In an instant there was a quivering flash through the air, and the third paste button off Jackson's coat indented the wall just above Baretti's head and fell at his feet, a scrap of the satin of the coat flying behind it like the little pennon on a lance. “Heavens!” whispered Goldsmith. “Ah, friend Nicolo was always a great humourist,” said Baretti. “For God's sake, Sandrino, throw them high into the air. The rush of that last was like a bullet.” Up to the ceiling flashed another button, and fell back upon the coat from which it was torn. And still Nicolo fenced away with that look of apprehension still on his face. “That is his fun,” said Baretti. “Oh, body of Bacchus! A great humourist!” The next button that Nicolo cutoff with the point of his sword he caught in his left hand and threw to Goldsmith, who also caught it. The look of triumph vanished from Jackson's face. He drew back, but his antagonist would not allow him to lower his sword, but followed him round the room untiringly. He had ceased his pretence of breathing heavily, but apparently his right arm was tired, for he had thrown his sword into his left hand, and was now fencing from that side. Suddenly the air became filled with floating scraps of silk and satin. They quivered to right and left, like butterflies settling down upon a meadow; they fluttered about by the hundred, making a pretty spectacle. Jackson's coat and waistcoat were in tatters, yet with such consummate dexterity did the fencingmaster cut the pieces out of both garments that Goldsmith utterly failed to see the swordplay that produced so amazing a result. Nicolo seemed to be fencing pretty much as usual. And then a curious incident occurred, for the front part of one of the man's pocket fell on the floor.