Great was the astonishment when, as Monsieur Dalboy divested himself of his coat and vest, the lad who had entered with Lord Fairholm and Sir John Loveday was seen similarly to prepare for the contest.

“Who is he?  What singular freak is this of the maitre to take up a foil with a boy!” was the question which ran round the room.

Several of those present had met Rupert Holliday, and could give his name; but none could account for the freak on the part of the master.

Fortunately Rupert was unacquainted with the fact that what seemed to him a natural occurrence was an extraordinary event in the eyes of all assembled, and he therefore experienced no feeling of nervousness whatever.  He knew that Colonel Holliday was a master of the sword, and his grandfather had told him that Monsieur Dessin was an altogether exceptional swordsman.  As he knew himself to be fully a match for the latter, he felt sure that, however perfect a master Monsieur Dalboy might be, he need not fear discrediting his master, even if his present opponent should prove more than his match.

There was a dead silence of curiosity at the singularity of the affair, as Rupert Holliday took his post face to face with the master; but a murmur of surprise and admiration ran round the room at the grace and perfection of accuracy with which Rupert went through the various parades which were then customary before the combatants crossed swords.

Rupert felt as calm and as steady as when fencing at home, and determined to use all his caution as well as all his skill; for not only did he feel that his own strength was upon trial, but that the honour of the teachers who had taken such pains with him was concerned in the result.  The swords had scarcely crossed when an expression of surprise passed across Maitre Dalboy’s face.  The first few passes showed him that in this lad he had found an opponent of no ordinary character, and that all his skill would be needed to obtain a victory over him.

For the first few minutes each fought cautiously, feeling each other’s strength rather than attempting to attack seriously.  Then the master dropped his point.

“Ma foi!  Young sir, you have done monsieur le colonel and my compatriot justice.  I offer you my congratulations.”

“They are premature, sir,” Rupert said, smiling; “you have not as yet begun.”

The silence in the school was even more profound when the swords again crossed than it had been when the bout began, for wonder had now taken the place of amused curiosity.  The struggle now commenced in earnest.  Several times at first Rupert narrowly escaped being touched, for the master’s play was new to him.  The thrusts and feints, the various attacks, were all familiar; but whereas Colonel Holliday had fought simply with his arm and his head, standing immovably in one place, and Monsieur Dessin had, although quick to advance and fall back, fought comparatively on the defensive, while he himself had been the assailant from his superior activity, Monsieur Dalboy was as quick and as active as himself, and the rapidity of the attacks, the quick bounds, the swift rushes, at first almost bewildered him; but gradually, as he grew accustomed to the play, he steadied himself, and eluded the master’s attacks with an activity as great as his own.