The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-05-04

over the scene of terrible passion and
brought into her consciousness its touch
Of pleasure despite the awful strain OF
what she was witnessing.
Louis Doucet and Capt, Cortes met face
to face and crossed swords near the mid
die OF the little street. The Spaniard
knew his man. Pauline's cry of recogni-
| ton awhile ago had told him who was the
swift footed and handsome young leader
/ Of the French detachment. AS for Dou-
Get, he knew nothing more than that an
enemy worthy of his steel was before
him. A voice that he had heard a few
moments before had seemed to him to
utter his name with sweet tenderness
that recalled in some strange way the
homesickness of his first year of absence
from France. It was no time for gentle
reflections now; the voice could not really
have called hiHa, he thought, and the mere
flash of nostalgia passed as quickly as it
came. His sword rang sharp and clear
on that of Cortes. The two men giared
at each other, the concentrated hatred Of
years Of war and hardship burning in
their eyes The meaning of such look
can never fall short of death.
They were we'll matched in every way.
Cortes was trifie the taller, but Doucet
appeared rather more compactly built
than his adversary. Both were sufi-
GENTLY heated by previous exertion to
make their blood swift and their mus
cles ready.
No time was lost; the fight was des-
perate from the beginning, neither CONF
Blatant at first thinking of anything but
rushing upon and bearing down the
other. Both, however, discovered very
soon that it was necessary to have care
for self defense as well as for attack.
They fenced furiously and adroitly,
neither giving an inch, utterly forgetful
of what was going on around them,
their whole souls focused, so to speak, in
the one desire to kill and, by killing, to
live.
Cortes was aware that Pauline was
near by and probably looking on. The
thought in some way nerved him power
fully. She should not see Louis Doucet
vancuish him; he would show her that
Spaniard for once was superior to a
Frenchman.
Doucet had no such extra stimulus;
but his was an iron frame, and his cool
ness and courage needed no aid when a
Spaniard dared cross weapons with him.
VITA the dexterity drawn from long
practice and with the fierce fury of
young tigers thirsting for each others
blood, they struggled back and forth
and round and round, while their COM
panions, fighting quite as madly, swept
on down the street, leaving them to oc-
cupy the already corpse numbered and
blood stained ground In those days
soldiers of the better class knEv the use
of the sword and were overproud of the
knowledge. Under the excitement and
exhilaration of hand to hand combat
theaccomplished swordsman always feels
that his strength is doubled; but the pc
culiar circumstances attending the strug-
immeasurably to this feeling. Each
found the other an antagonist whose
vigor and swiftness made every moment
crisis, and whose steadfast gaze caught
in advance every motion of wrist or
body. Cortes, in what may be safely
called sub-conscious way, recalled in
the midst of the fight what he had said
to Pauline about sacrificing life, and even
his honor, to serve her. Strange that at
the same time he could see, by indirect
vision, just beyond Doucet dead man
lying on the sand in the road. The face
was upturned and distorted, the arms
outstretched Like dark shadow shot
across his brain the thought: Shall l
soon be lying here In that condition."
1t was not startling, it was more like an
idle watt of suggestion, gone as soon as
it came.
Both men became aware presently that
the cannonading had ceased and that the
rattle of muketry was no longer heard
A great calm had fallen after the storm
the battle was over and the Spanish, to
the number of 1890, had surrendered
themselves prisoners of war.
One Spaniard, however, was not yet
conquered; one Frenchman was still bat
Ting for victory.