The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1874-10-13

| know why to teach this boy ALI"
He Kissed with rage, for his most cum
ming lunge was parried with ease, and
the keen edge of his foes long blade
laid bare to the bone his right cheek.
The extraordinary length of his sword
greatly annoyed him. Its fexibility
made his accustomed feats of sword play
very dangerous. In the small hand of
his enemy the same sword seemed liys
ing thing--to have eyes, ears, brains,
muscles, reason, soul-a soul resolute
to slay him.
For the first time in his life the saw
age duelist began to think more of the
danger of being killed than the pleasure
of killing,
A rapid, furious, continued assault,
and the duelist saw his left ear lying
upon the ground. The sword Of the
STRIPPING had shorn it clear and close to
his skull.
The seconds would have interfered,
but as with one voice the contestants ex-
claimed:
Il
The tone of the duelist was rough
with wrath. That of the stripping was
sharp with defiance.
81 mean to kill you, Hector Graymart.
But first will mutilate you, murderer Of
Charles Alycn."
The next instant saw the other ear Of
the duelist upon the green sward.
"Ah, you mean to cut me into mince
meat p roared Graymart,trying to close
with his enemy .eu:ass
Lightfoot darted aside, and as bis blade
flashed an upward blow it shcared off the
lips and nose OF the veteran of more
than twenty duels.
81 am fighting sword juggler Ia
devil" cried Graymart, all blood and
rage as that terrible blade slashed his
neck, his shoulders, his breast, ibis thighs
No mortal wound yet, but score Of
deep, long, smarting gashes from which
the blood strcamed steadily. ga.
Right and left, dozen times, across
his cheeks, across his forehead, slashed
that thin, razor edged blade. 1t requir
all the play of his left hand to keep his
eyes clear OF blood
There was not wound, not a scratch
upon the dark, handsome face Of his
agile, mocking enemy.
Suddenly, with flash like light,a force
like that of a thunderbolt, that blade
smote his left hand from the wrist.
With this bleeding stump the mutila
ted duelist could no longer keep bis ela-
ring eyeballs free from blood.
Another blow, like the sotffer, andThe
right hand of the duelist was smitten off
and lay upon the ground, still grasping
the useless sword
Old Raphael uttered cry Of triumph,
and then of astonishment.
snow die, assassin - exclaimed Per-
Gle Lightfoot, darting his long, lance
like blade straight through the broad
breast of the vanquished duelist.
As the guards Of the hilt struck heav-
lily against Graymart's ribs he fell, ,choked
with blood.
We said old Raphael uttered cry of
triumph, and then shout of amazement.
The cry of. hiumph was because he saw
the duelist was defenseless; the. shout of
amazement was because he saw horse
man gallop to the spot and leap to the
ground s-f
In the horseman lie had instantly re-
cognized the supposed dead Charles AL
ven.
Lightfoot bent over the slowly dying
Graymart and said:
"Now l will tell you what I am to
Charles Alven. am his widow and his
avenger!m
"No!" cried old Raphael dragging AL
ven forward. "You are his wife! He
lives, my LADY, See! he is herer'
Harriet Alven, for the STRIPPING was
none other than the devoted wife, turned
and was clasped in the eager embrace of
the loving husband
Hector Graymart heard all, understood
all. He raised himself upon his bloody
stamps, and glaring at the happy pair,
roared from his lipless mouth:
GAIL the curses Of"
But no more; for there death snatch
ed away his soul, and his mutilated
corpse alone remained on earth.
"A passing fisherman saved me in his
boat" remarked Charles Alven, in ex-
planning his rescue. "The boat was
driven far into the Gulf by a sudden
storm; we were picked up by a ship
bound for Spain; it was months before
we arrived in Europe; months before !
recovered from my wounds. have just
returned to New Orleans, where a faith
full servant told me to hasten hither, as
my wife was to fight Hector Graymaat
All, my Harriet, you have dyed your
hair and eyebrows, and your snowy skin
until even would have failed to recog
nize you"
"Tbe dye will come off very soon, my
dear husband; my fair hair will grow
again, and the brilliant complexion you
praised so much is merely tinged l
thought he had slain you, and l deter
mined to slay him; l am sorry he is
dead now"
"And everybody else is glad" cried
old Raphael exciledy. "He was brute.
1t is well he is dead But, my faith, my
lady, 1 knew who my pupil was, for |
learned that your reported death in the
convent was false, land l suspected. With
me, to suspect is to discover. Ahw
Since that day to this old Raphael has
had home with the Alvens, and you
may see his military figure pacing Jack
son Square of New Orleans any fine
evening. But he teaches fencing now to
the eldest boy of Charles Alven only.
"Your nose and eyes, your father gave, you