Even our swords were
similar--long, leather-sheathed rapiers with dead gold hilts.
Under my doublet I laced the steel vest Bernheim brought me. It and
one other were made by a famous Milan armorer three hundred years ago,
Bernheim said; and the two had been in his family ever since. And, so
far as he knew, there were no others like them in all Europe; not even
in the Museums. It was a wonderful piece of work, truly. The links
were small and yielding and so cunningly joined that it was as pliable
as knitted wool, and much less bulky. Indeed, when rolled into a ball,
it was no bigger than a man's fist. It looked quite too flimsy to
afford any protection; yet, when I saw it proof against a bullet fired
from a revolver and also turn repeated sword thrusts, I was, perforce,
convinced. And I was completely won when I donned it; it was like a
vest of silk. And I was well pleased it was so; for I was wearing it
simply to oblige good old Bernheim, who seemed so earnest about it. I
had no notion it would be of any service to me that night.
As everyone came masked, admission was, of course, only by card, after
which all were conducted singly to a small room where the mask was
removed and identification satisfactorily established by the
Ambassador's Secretary.
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