"You saw it at the end of a hot summer," replied Wilhelm, "it's very
different in spring."

"Perhaps so; but I beg you to remember the Rhine, the Meuse, and our
other rivers, even the Marne, Drecht and whatever the smaller streams are
called. They remain full and bear stately ships at all seasons of the
year. Uniform and reliable is the custom of this country; to-day one
way, to-morrow another, is the Italian habit. It's just the same with
the blades in the fencing-school."

"The Italians wield dangerous weapons," said von Warmond.

"Very true, but they bend to and fro and lack firmness. I know what I'm
talking about, for I lodged with my colleague Torelli, the best fencing-
master in the city. I'll say nothing of the meals he set before me.
To-day macaroni, to-morrow macaroni with a couple of chicken drumsticks
to boot, and so on. I've often drawn my belt tighter after dinner. As
for the art of fencing, Torelli is certainly no bungler, but he too has
the skipping fashion in his method. You must keep your eyes open in a
passado with him, but if I can once get to my quarte, tierce, and side-
thrust, I have him."

"An excellent series," said Junker von Warmond. "It has been useful to
me."

"I know, I know," replied the captain eagerly. "You silenced the French
brawler with it at Namur. There's the catch in my throat again.
Something will happen to-day, gentlemen, something will surely happen."

The fencing-master grasped the front of his ruff with his left hand and