"
I smiled at him addressing her as "mademoiselle."
She shook her head. "Methinks it's Balaam not Beauty you need."
He laughed. "Even that does not stir him--the fellow must be deaf."
"Try signs on him." she suggested.
"Good! I'll sign to him we want to see his face."
"How, pray?"
"By pulling off his mask," he answered--and put out his hand, as though
to do it. With his fingers almost on it, he paused.
I stood quite still. I felt perfectly sure he would not touch me; but,
if he did, I intended to knock him down. And I was not mistaken.
After a moment, he dropped his arm.
The woman laughed. "Your nerve failed--his didn't," she said dryly.
"Not at all, mademoiselle. I thought of a better way.--Observe."
He slowly drew the long narrow-bladed sword, that went with his
costume, and, taking the point in his left hand, bowed over it in mock
courtesy.
"Will monsieur have the extreme kindness to remove his mask," he said.
I admit I was a bit astonished. Surely, this was rushing things with a
vengeance--to deliberately raise a situation that meant either a fight
or a complete back-down by one of us. And, as he would scarcely
imagine I would do the latter, he must have intended to force a duel.
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