It was not wonderful: he had by nature cool nerves and a quick eye; and he had been taught by the masters of the art in Vienna and Paris.
Early in July--the 9th or 10th of the month, I think--I was sitting alone in my gallery, looking ruefully enough at the last two sovereigns in my purse, when a gentleman was announced who wanted a lesson.

"A _private_ lesson," he said, with emphasis, looking at the man who cleaned and took care of my weapons.
I sent the man out of the room.

The stranger (an Englishman, and, as I fancied, judging by outward appearances, a military man as well) took from his pocket-book a fifty-pound banknote, and held it up before me.
"I have a heavy wager depending on a fencing match," he said, "and I have no time to improve myself.

Teach me a trick which will make me a match for a man skilled in the use of the foil, and keep the secret--and there are fifty pounds for you." I hesitated.

I did indeed hesitate, poor as I was.