“It is too bad,” the Frenchman said, shrugging his shoulders, “that my pupils should use the science I have taught them against my countrymen; but what would you have?  It is the fortune of war.  Is this young gentleman a new pupil that you have brought me?”

“No, indeed,” Lord Fairholm said; “this is Master Rupert Holliday, a cornet in the 5th regiment of dragoons, who is also about to start for Holland.”

“I have had the advantage of learning from a countryman of yours, Monsieur Dalboy,” Rupert said, “a Monsieur Dessin, who is good enough to teach the noble art in the town of Derby.”

“Dessin!  Dessin!” Maitre Dalboy said, thoughtfully “I do not remember the name among our maitres d’escrime.”

“The Earl of Marlborough himself vouches for the skill of Master Holliday with the sword.  His grandfather, Colonel Holliday, was, I believe, noted as one of the finest blades at the court of Saint Germains.”

“I have heard of him,” Monsieur Dalboy said, with interest.  “Let me think; he wounded the Marquis de Beauchamp, who was considered one of the best swordsmen in France.  Yes, yes, his fame as a swordsman is still remembered.  And he is alive yet?”

“Alive and active,” Rupert said; “and although, as he says himself, he has lost some of his quickness of reposte, there are, Monsieur Dessin says, few fencers who could even now treat him lightly.”

“And you have had the benefit of his instruction as well as that of my countryman?” Monsieur Dalboy asked.

“Yes,” Rupert said, “my grandfather, although he cares not at his age for prolonged exercise, has yet made a point of giving me for a few minutes each day the benefit of his skill.”

“I should like to have a bout with you, Master Holliday,” Monsieur Dalboy said; “will you take a foil?  I am curious to see what the united teaching of my countryman and that noted swordsman Colonel Holliday may have done.  To me, as a master, it is interesting to discover what is possible with good teachers, when the science is begun young.  What may your age be, Master Holliday?”

“I am four months short of sixteen,” Rupert said, “and I shall be very proud of the honour of crossing swords with so famed a master as yourself, if you think me worthy of so great a privilege.”

There was quite a sensation in the fencing school, round which were gathered some forty or fifty of the young men of the day, when Maitre Dalboy called for his plastron and foil, for it was seldom indeed, and then only with swordsmen of altogether exceptional strength, that Monsieur Dalboy condescended to fence, contenting himself ordinarily with walking about the school and giving a hint now and then to those fencing with his assistants, not, perhaps, more than once a week taking a foil in his hand to illustrate some thrust or guard which he was inculcating.  At this call, therefore, there was a general silence; and everyone turned to see who was the fencer whom the great master thus signally deigned to honour.