Waterbury evening Democrat., 1903-10-22

sword pass over again into shis right hand and knew that there was no time for anything but death or fight. The good priest did not shirk what might have made the raadiest of soldiers nervous. Hamilton was known to be a great swordsman and proud of the dis unction. Father Beret had seen h1m fence with Farnsworth in remarkable form, touching him at will, and in min istering to the men in the fort he had heard them talk of the governors in comparable skill.
 A priest is, in perhaps all cases but the last out of thousand, a man of peace, not to be forced into fight, but the exceptional one out of the ten hundred it is well not to stir up if you are looking for an easy victim. Ham nton was in the habit of considering every antagonist immediately conquer able. His domineering spirit could not, when opposed, reckon with any possi- bility of disaster. As he sprang toward Father Beret there wassa mutual rec ognition and--we speak guardedly- something that sounded exactly like an exchange of furious execrations. As
 
 have been a mere priestly formula of objurgation.
 The moon was accommodating. With a beautiful white splendor 1t entered space of cloudless sky, where it seem ed to slip along the dusky blue surface among the stars, far over in the west
 'It's you, is it?" Hamilton exclaimed between teeth that almost crushed one another. You prowling hypocriter'
 Father Beret said something. It was not complimentary, and it sounded sll- phurous, if not profane. Remember, however, that priest can scarcely hope to be better than Peter, and Peter did actually make the simon pure remark when hard pressed. At all events, Father Beret said something with vigorous emphasis, and met Ham ilton half way.
 Both men, stimulated to the finger tips by draft of imperious passion, fairly plunged to the inevitable con- fict. An, if Alice could have seen her beautiful weapons cross, if she could have heard the fine, farreaching clink, clink, cIink, while sparks leaped forth dazzling even in the moonlight; if she could have noted the admira ble-nay, the amazing-pla as the men, regain ing coolness to some extent, gathered their forces and fell cautiously to the deadly work, it would have been enough to change the cold shimmer of her face to flash of warm delight. For she would have understood every feint, lunge, parry, and seen at a glance how Father Beret set the pace and led the race at the beginning She would 1 have understood, for Father Beret had taught her all she knew about the art 1 of fencing.
 1 Hamilton quickly felt, and with 8 sense of its strangeness, the priests masterly command of his weapon. The i surprise called up all his caution and i cleverness. Before he could adjust l himself to such an unexpected col1- l dition he came near being spitted out right by pretty pass under his guard. The narrow escape, while it put him on l his best mettle, sent wave of super l stition through his brain. He recalled what Barlow had jocularly said about l the doings of the devil-priest or priest devil at RoussilIon place on that night when the patrol guard attempted to take Gaspard Roussillon. Was this indeed Father Beret, that gentle old man, now before him, or was it an l averaging demon from the shades?
 The thought fitted electrically across l his mind, while he deftly parried, feinted. lunged, giving his dark antag- 1 onist all he could do to meet the play. Priest or devil, he thought-he cared not which-he would reach his vitals presently. Yet there fingered with him
 8 haunting half fear or tenuous awe. which may have aided, rather than l hindered, his excellent swordsman- ship.
 Underfoot it was slushy with mud, l water and ice, the consistency varying I from a somewhat solid crust to pud- 1 dies that half inundated Hamilton'e
 boots and quite overfowed Father l Beret's moccasins- an execrable field I for the little matter in hand. They 1 gradually shifted position. Now ii
 was the governor, then the priest, who
 had advantage as to the light. For
 some time Father Beret seemed quite the shiftier and surer fighter, but (was
 his age telling on himD he lost per. Aceptibly in suppleness. Still Hamil
 ton failed to touch him. There was g
 baf1ing something in the old mans
 escape now and again from what ought
 to have been an inevitable stroke
 Was 1t luck7 It seemed to Hamilton
 more than that-a sort of uncanny eva
 sion. Or was it supreme mastery, the
 last and subtlest reach of the fencer's
 craft?
 fro BE CONTINUED.
 l Too Much Sentiment.