The treasure which you have with you is mine,--it has been stolen
from me. I now want to have it back again. I have brought hither a man
to every man of yours, we are as strong as you. I meet you openly in the
light of day. Give me back my gold or you shall have a taste of my
iron."
The lieutenant, who was one of the best swordsmen and one of the bravest
heroes in the regiment, did not think twice about accepting the
challenge, but put spurs to his steed and fell upon the adventurer who
awaited him in the middle of the bridge.
He encountered a terrible antagonist. Fatia Negra warded every blow and
countered instantly; the young officer was thrown into confusion by the
superior dexterity of his opponent, and it was only a soldier's sense of
honour that induced him to continue an attack which was bound to end
fatally for himself: practised fencers always know at once whether they
can vanquish their antagonist or not. At the same time it was really
surprising that Fatia Negra did not immediately take advantage of his
strength and skill. He seemed to be sparing his enemy, nay, he even
retreated before him step by step.
Meanwhile the _melee_ on the bridge had become general. The lancers
hastened to the assistance of their leader, the black masks slashed away
at them with their csakanys, and soon there were very few among the
combatants who had not received a lance thrust or a csakany blow.
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