"Ah--if I only could!" exclaimed Gianluca, in a tone that hurt Veronica.
The invalid looked down at his long, thin legs and emaciated hands, and he tried to smile bravely.
"You would rather not see us--we will not do it," said Veronica, gently, bending a little to see his face, as she stood near him.
"Oh no! Please do!" he answered. "I have never seen a woman fence--I cannot imagine how you could. It would amuse me very much. Please send for the foils."
The things were brought, the tables and chairs were moved away, Taquisara drew Gianluca"s big easy-chair, with him in it, towards the window, and Veronica put on her leathern jacket and glove, and stood holding her mask in her hand, as she bent over the foils looking for her favourite one. She found it, and came forward, carrying both mask and foil, while Taquisara got ready. Gianluca looked at her and smiled.
There was something defiant and warlike about the small, well-poised head, the aquiline features, and the bright eyes. With one foot a little in advance she stood up, straight and daring, in the middle of the room, waiting for her adversary. The grey light of the rainy afternoon gleamed coldly along the steel.
Taquisara took the one of the two masks which fitted him the better, and picked out a foil. He did not think of putting on a jacket to fence with a woman.
"No jacket?" asked Veronica, with a short laugh, as she slipped her mask over her head.
He laughed, too, but said nothing, considering it as a matter of course, and stepping into position he stood before Veronica with lowered foil.
She raised hers, saluted him, and then Gianluca, as though they were to fence a bout for a prize. Taquisara did the same.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, in surprise, as both were about to fall into guard.
"Are you left-handed?"
"Yes--did you never notice it?" She laughed again, as her foil played upon his for a second. "Now then!" she cried.
Taquisara was not an exceptionally good fencer, and had spent very little time in the study of the art. He was bold, quick, and somewhat reckless, and in two or three slight affairs in which, like most men of his society in the south, he had been unavoidably engaged, he had wounded his adversaries rather by surprise and indifference to his own safety, than by any superior skill. He had expected that Veronica would make a few conventional pa.s.ses and parries, and grow tired of the sport in a few minutes. To his astonishment, he saw in a moment that she could really fence fairly well, while the fact of being left-handed gave her a great advantage, even against an otherwise superior adversary. He had of course intended and expected only to defend himself without ever really attacking, as men generally do when they fence with women. But he was mistaken in supposing that this was what Veronica wanted.
She tried his wrist once or twice and played a little, feeling her way.
Then there was a quick flash, a disengagement, a feint, a lunge that was like a man"s, and as her long left arm shot out like lightning, her foil bent nearly double, with the b.u.t.ton full on his breast. She stepped back, and he heard her short laugh again, followed by Gianluca"s, and he laughed, too, somewhat disconcerted.
"I took you by surprise," she said. "You had better put on a jacket--it is just as well."
"Oh no--but you can really fence! I had no idea. I shall be more careful. Try again!"
They engaged once more, and Taquisara was cautious. His defence did not compare with his attack, and he could not take the offensive in earnest.
He parried her quick thrusts with some difficulty, and presently she touched him on the arm.
"Why do you not attack me?" she asked impatiently. "You need not be afraid--I can defend myself pretty well."
He did not altogether like to lunge as though he were fencing with a man, and his hesitation gave her a still greater advantage. She felt an unaccountable delight in attacking him furiously, and in her excitement she uttered sharp little cries when she touched him, as she did more than once. She felt that she had never fenced so well in her life, and she was glad that she should do better against him than against Bianca or her fencing-master. There was a strange delight in it. He, on his part, did his best at defence, but he could not bring himself to a real attack. He tried to disarm her, by sheer strength, but he failed utterly. Her wrist was more supple than the steel foil itself, and she was left-handed.
It was rather wild play, but it was amusing to watch, and Gianluca looked on with delighted appreciation. She was so slight and graceful, and yet so quick and strong. As for Taquisara, he was glad when she drew back, took her mask from her face, and said that it was enough.
"You ought to know that you can hardly ever disarm a left-handed person when you are engaged in carte," observed Gianluca, looking at Taquisara.
Though he had never been in a quarrel in his life, he had been pa.s.sionately fond of fencing, and in his real interest in what he had seen he did not even think of complimenting Veronica. She was keen enough to feel that his scientific remark was better than any flattery.
Taquisara shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
"Donna Veronica fences like a man," he said. "And I am not very good at it either. She would have killed me two or three times!"
"You never really attacked me," she answered, flushed and happy. "By the by," she added, seeing that he was looking over the other foils, "one of those is sharp--the one with the green hilt--be careful not to take it by mistake if we fence again, for you might really kill me."
"How did it come here?" he asked, taking up the one she indicated.
"It was lying about at the Princess Corleone"s. I took it by mistake, I suppose, with my things. I believe that Signor Ghisleri brought it to show her, one day. I think he said it had been used."
She threw off her leathern jacket, and tossed the other things aside.
"Let us fence a little every day," she said. "That is, if you will really fence, instead of playing with me."
"I am certainly not able to play with you," he answered. "And I shall wear a jacket next time."
"You are wonderful," said Gianluca, still watching her with admiration.
The storm had pa.s.sed, and the rain was over. Before long the Duca and d.u.c.h.essa would appear for tea, and Taquisara said that he would go for a walk. Veronica rang and had the room set in order again, and sat down by Gianluca. The exercise had done her good, and she still felt that fierce little satisfaction at having fought with Taquisara. There was an unwonted colour in her cheeks, and her brown hair had been somewhat ruffled by the mask. Her hands were warm, and tingled, and she felt intensely alive. It had been pleasant, for once, to put out all her energy in something like a real struggle.
Little by little her sensations wore off, and she was quite quiet again, but the recollection of them remained and made her wish to renew them every day.
"You are wonderful," Gianluca repeated, when they had talked of other things for a while. "Taquisara is not a fencing-master, but he is as good as most men, and better than many. You gave him trouble, I could see. It was all he could do to defend himself against you, sometimes."
"Did it amuse you to watch us?" asked Veronica.
"Yes--of course!"
"Then we will do it again, every day. I am glad of a little practice, and it will not hurt him either. A descendant of Tancred ought to fence better than that! I suppose that your mother would be horrified."
"She might be a little surprised."
"Shall we tell her?"
"Not unless we are obliged to," answered Gianluca, with a smile. "We do not tell her everything."
"No," said Veronica, acquiescing rather thoughtfully.
Gianluca was in that state in which there is a delight in having little, harmless secrets from the world in common with one much loved, but not yet wholly won, and each small secrecy was to the bond that held him what the silver threads are to Damascus steel, welded into the whole that the blade may bend double without breaking. But to Veronica it was different; for she guessed instinctively how he looked upon such trifles, and she did not wish them to multiply unduly. Each one was a sting to her conscience.
"I hate secrets," she said gravely, after a pause. "Let us tell her. It is much better."
"As you like," answered Gianluca, with a little disappointment, which she did not fail to notice.
"You think that she will be scandalized? And that we shall not fence any more? Why? I am sure, if she could see us, she would think it very proper. It is not improper, is it?" She asked the last question anxiously, as though in an after-thought.
"Improper? No! How absurd! If everything that is unusual were to be considered improper, our writing to each other would be improper, too.
But we kept it a secret, all the same. I cannot imagine talking about it. For me--everything that belongs to you is a secret."
Veronica leaned back in her chair, and her face grew still more grave, but she did not answer. The struggle had begun again, and the hesitation. Should she tell him, once for all, that she really never could love him? Should she leave him the illusion he loved so well? Was he to die, or was he to live? The answer to each question seemed to lie in the query of the next. He spoke again before she broke the silence.
"Do you not feel that--a little--not as I do, but just a little, about me?" he asked in a voice not timid, but very soft.
"No," she answered sadly. "Not as you do. No; it is quite different."