'I can cover myself, as you shall see,' he exclaimed; and they began to fence in jest apparently, while the Heer looked approvingly on, and said with a laugh and an oath: 'Now we shall see who is the better ruffler of the two.' And the Heer, who bore Lewie no goodwill for the coldness of his demeanour and the general hauteur he manifested towards him, looked as if he would very much have relished to draw his old hanger and engage in the perilous sport too--for perilous it was, with keen-edged and sharply-pointed straight-bladed swords. The Heer van Schrekhorn was everyway an odious fellow--a lover of the fair sex, of schiedam and cards; but one who always avowed openly that _liking_ for a woman was one thing, but love for her was another--and certes he knew nothing about it. He loudly and bluntly applauded his friend's fencing. 'Appel now!' he exclaimed; 'quick--disengage to that side again! contract your arm--quick--dart a thrust right forward now!' At that moment, as if in obedience to the suggestion, the point of Morganstjern's sword struck the gilded regimental gorget of Baronald, which was adorned with the Lion Rampant of the Netherlands. 'The devil!' he exclaimed; 'do you aim at my throat?' 'All a mistake,' said Morganstjern, beginning to pant as he was pressed on in turn and driven back. 'Is this folly or fury--do you really wish to quarrel?' asked Lewie Baronald; but the other made no reply, though his eyes became inflamed, his colour deepened, his teeth were set and his brows knit; and though he laughed, the sound of his laughter was strange and unnatural. This game at sharps was certainly jest with Baronald, though he little liked his opponent; but he soon became aware that the eyes of the latter seemed to become more bloodshot, that his cheek paled, his grasp grew firmer on his hilt; that his thrusts came quickly and fiercely--in short, that beyond all doubt, under cover of a little pretended sword-play, he had--murder in his heart! They were rivals for the love of Dolores, yet Morganstjern had not the courage to challenge Baronald to a regular mortal duel. His bearing now, and the perilous thrust arrested by his gorget, were a warning to the latter of that which Morganstjern was now capable--killing him by design, without peril to himself, while he would affect that it was done by mere chance in rough jest; and had Baronald been run through the body, the Heer would have been ready to affirm and swear that it was all done by the merest accident. Baronald felt his blood getting warm; he knew that duelling was sternly discouraged by the Dutch authorities; and that to kill the cousin of Dolores, even in self-defence, would preclude all chance of possessing her favour.