But the umpire did not wait, though he reflected that Rex must have
been in activity a very long time ago. Of course, the statement must be
true, as any one might verify it instantly by a reference to the
registers.
'Paukanten parat?' inquired the umpire.
'Parat!'
The spectators observed that Bauer's first tierce was more than formal,
and that if Rex's guard had not been good, it might very well have done
some damage. Rex's fencing was altogether different from Hollenstein's.
He seemed to possess neither the grace nor the dexterity which
distinguished that gentle swordsman, although in figure he was far
lighter and more actively made. And yet Bauer could not get at him. He
was one of those fencers who seem to work awkwardly, but who sometimes
puzzle their adversaries more than any professional master of the art.
His movements appeared to be slow and yet they were never behind time,
and he had a curious instinct about what was coming. Bauer's famous
deep-cartes were always met by a cut which at once parried the attack
and confused the striker. Once or twice Rex's long blade shot out above
his adversary's head with tremendous force, but Bauer was tall, quick
and accomplished, and the attempt did not succeed. Greif began to feel
that the match was by no means an uneven one, and he breathed more
freely.
'I think you could manage it, if you tried harder,' he whispered to
Rex, during a short halt.
'Of course,' answered Rex. 'What do you expect?' Even through the iron
eye-pieces Greif could see the colourless, stony stare of his friend's
eyes.
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