And while I wore him down until he began to wheeze as I had predicted, Pasquini, head on hand and watching, coughed and spat out his life.
"Now, de Goncourt," I announced finally.

"You see I have you quite helpless.

You are mine in any of a dozen ways.

Be ready, brace yourself, for this is the way I will." And, so saying, I merely went from carte to tierce, and as he recovered wildly and parried widely I returned to carte, took the opening, and drove home heart-high and through and through.

And at sight of the conclusion Pasquini let go his hold on life, buried his face in the grass, quivered a moment, and lay still.
"Your master will be four servants short this night," I assured de Villehardouin, in the moment just ere we engaged.
And such an engagement! The boy was ridiculous.