I was not minded for a long contest.

Quick and brilliant had always been my way.

And further, what of my past gay months of carousal and of singing "Sing cucu, sing cucu, sing cucu," at ungodly hours, I knew I was not conditioned for a long contest.

Quick and brilliant was my decision.
But quick and brilliant was a difficult matter with so consummate a swordsman as Fortini opposed to me.

Besides, as luck would have it, Fortini, always the cold one, always the tireless-wristed, always sure and long, as report had it, in going about such business, on this night elected, too, the quick and brilliant.
It was nervous, tingling work, for as surely as I sensed his intention of briefness, just as surely had he sensed mine.