"Now, Monsieur Rupert, we will take our lesson in fencing."

The above speech was in the French language, and the speaker was a
tall, slightly-built man of about fifty years of age. The scene was
a long low room, in a mansion situated some two miles from Derby.
The month was January, 1702, and King William the Third sat upon
the throne. In the room, in addition to the dancing master, were
the lad he was teaching, an active, healthy-looking boy between
fifteen and sixteen; his partner, a bright-faced French girl of
some twelve years of age; and an old man, nearer eighty than
seventy, but still erect and active, who sat in a large armchair,
looking on.

By the alacrity with which the lad went to an armoire and took out
the foils, and steel caps with visors which served as fencing
masks, it was clear that he preferred the fencing lesson to the
dancing. He threw off his coat, buttoned a padded guard across his
chest, and handing a foil to his instructor, took his place before
him.

"Now let us practise that thrust in tierce after the feint and
disengage. You were not quite so close as you might have been,
yesterday. Ha! ha! that is better. I think that monsieur your
grandfather has been giving you a lesson, and poaching on my manor.
Is it not so?"

"Yes," said the old man, "I gave him ten minutes yesterday evening;
but I must give it up. My sword begins to fail me, and your pupil
gets more skillful, and stronger in the wrist, every day. In the