The Fencing Master by Arturo Pérez-Reverte Page A

still beautiful, but now her beauty lay in the tension with which her body seemed almost to vibrate. There was something mannish about her, but also something dark and wild.
    Señora de Otero did not move sideways, she kept the line and maintained the correct measure on which purists were so keen and which Don Jaime himself recommended to his pupils. He advanced three steps, and she responded by retreating three. He made a thrust in tierce, and the young woman opposed him with an impeccable counterparry in quarte, describing a small circle with her foil around the enemy blade, which was turned aside by the maneuver. He silently admired the clean execution of that defense, considered to be the most important of the principal parries; anyone who mastered it knew all there was to know about fencing. He waited for her to lunge immediately in quarte, which she did; he neutralized the attack and delivered a thrust over her arm which would have hit home had he not deliberately stopped about an inch short. The young woman noticed this, stepped back without lowering her foil, and looked at him eyes blazing.
    "I'm not paying you so that you can just toy with me as if I were one of your beginners, Don Jaime." Her voice trembled with ill-contained anger. "If you're going to hit me, then do so."

    He stammered an apology, amazed at her furious reaction. She merely resumed her frown of concentration, and suddenly lunged forward so violently that he barely had time to interpose his foil in quarte, although the force of the attack obliged him to step back. He attacked in quarte to keep his distance, but she continued her assault, engaging, attacking, and advancing with extraordinary speed, marking each movement with a hoarse cry. Less troubled by the nature of the attack than by the young woman's passionate determination, Don Jaime continued to retreat, staring, as if hypnotized, at the terrible expression contorting his opponent's face. He broke ground, and she followed him, advancing. He broke ground again, but she advanced again, engaging and thrusting in quinte. He again drew back, and this time she engaged in quinte and attacked in seconde. "Enough is enough," thought Don Jaime, determined to put an end to this absurd situation But the young woman still had time to engage in tierce and attack in quarte over the arm before he had completely recovered himself. With considerable difficulty he managed to extricate himself and standing firm waited for her to present her foil horizontally He disarmed her with a short sharp blow on the blade and almost simultaneously raised his foil and held the tip to her throat As her weapon fell to the floor she jumped back staring at the threatening foil as if a serpent were about to bite her.
    They exchanged a measured, silent look. To his surprise, the fencing master noticed that the young woman no longer appeared angry. The anger that had contorted her features during the fight gave way to a smile in which there was a flicker of irony. He realized that she was glad to have given him a hard bout, and this irritated him.
    "What were you trying to do? In a fight without protected foils, something like that could have cost you your life, madam. Fencing isn't a game."

    She threw her head back and let out a joyful laugh, like a little girl who has perpetrated some magnificent piece of mischief. Her cheeks were flushed with the physical exertion, and there were tiny beads of sweat on her upper lip. Even her eyelashes seemed damp, and it crossed his mind—though he immediately dismissed the thought—that this was how she must look after making love.
    "Don't be angry with me, maestro." Her voice and face had changed completely; they were now full of sweetness, giving her a honeyed charm, a warm beauty. She was still breathing hard, her breast rising and falling beneath the protective plastron. "I just wanted to show you that there was no need for you to treat me with paternal care. When I have a foil in my