combat ensued, of which the result was quite uncertain, depending
entirely on chance; for no science was of any avail on a ground so rough
that the combatants stumbled at every step, or struck against immovable
masses, which were one moment clearly lit up, and the next in shadow.
Steel clashed on steel, the feet of the adversaries touched each other,
several times the cloak of one was pierced by the sword of the other,
more than once the words "Die then!" rang out. But each time the
seemingly vanquished combatant sprang up unwounded, as agile and as lithe
and as quick as ever, while he in his turn pressed the enemy home. There
was neither truce nor pause, no clever feints nor fencer's tricks could
be employed on either side; it was a mortal combat, but chance, not
skill, would deal the death-blow. Sometimes a rapid pass encountered
only empty air; sometimes blade crossed blade above the wielders' heads;
sometimes the fencers lunged at each other's breast, and yet the blows
glanced aside at the last moment and the blades met in air once more. At
last, however, one of the two, making a pass to the right which left his
breast unguarded, received a deep wound. Uttering a loud cry, he
recoiled a step or two, but, exhausted by the effort, tripped and fell
backward over a large stone, and lay there motionless, his arms extended
in the form of a cross.

The other turned and fled.

"Hark, de Jars!" said Jeannin, stopping, "There's fighting going on
hereabouts; I hear the clash of swords."

Both listened intently.

"I hear nothing now."