"I have not properly warmed up." And to de Goncourt, "Now will we have you dance and wheeze--Salute!" De Goncourt's heart was not in the work.

It was patent that he fought under the compulsion of command.

His play was old-fashioned, as any middle-aged man's is apt to be, but he was not an indifferent swordsman.
He was cool, determined, dogged.

But he was not brilliant, and he was oppressed with foreknowledge of defeat.

A score of times, by quick and brilliant, he was mine.