His skill in fencing, however, gave him but slight advantage in such an encounter, while Desmond's exercise with the sabre, in the regimental salle d'armes, was now most useful to him.

Enraged at the fall of his friend, and seeing that there was but a moment to spare, for already some of the other assailants were coming to the assistance of their chief, he showered his blows with such vehemence and fury that his opponent had enough to do to guard his head, without striking a blow in return.
Seeing in a moment that he would be surrounded, Desmond made a last effort.

The vicomte's weapon shivered at the stroke, but it somewhat diverted the direction of the blow, and instead of striking him full on the head, the sword shore down his cheek, inflicting a ghastly wound, carrying away an ear as well as the cheek from the eye to the chin.

Then, wheeling his horse, he dashed at two men who were riding at him.
The attack was so sudden that one of their horses swerved, and Desmond, touching his charger's flank with a spur, rode at him and hurled horse and rider to the ground.

A backhanded blow struck his other opponent full in the throat, and then he dashed into the wood, shouting to Mike to follow him.
The two servitors had both fallen, and the greater part of the assailants were gathered round the carriage.