Chernychev, having tested the edge of his own sword, saluted his opponent with a sardonic smile.
'I regret that I have no better weapon to offer you. I fear you may not be familiar with the sabre.'
Jason grinned back at him wolfishly.
'I'm touched by your solicitude but have no fear. I shall do very well with this. A naval cutlass is far heavier.' He returned the salute with an ironical swish of his blade.
Chernychev glanced briefly at the girl clinging, pale as death, to his junior officer's arm and murmured softly: 'Do you not desire to say farewell to the Princess? It is unlikely that both of us will emerge from this encounter alive.'
'No, for I expect to live. But I have a word to say to you before we engage. If I should die, will you give me your word to let her go? I want her taken to within reach of the French lines. No doubt once there she will be able to claim the protection of the man with whom you fought that night in the garden.'
A hideous stab of pain shot through Marianne, for Jason's tone left no doubt as to his feelings towards her at that moment. Jealousy, reawakened, had brought with it scorn and contempt. At that moment she even feared that in his revulsion he might court death deliberately.
'It's not true! I swear to you by my father's honour, by my mother's memory that General Fournier – for he is the man in question – is nothing more to me than a friend who came to my rescue at a moment when I stood in dire need of help. He loves my dearest friend, Fortunée Hamelin and for her sake defended me! He called on me that night to thank me for interceding for him to get him restored to his command. May I drop dead this instant if that is not the whole truth! It was his generosity which enabled this dastard here, who had done nothing to deserve it, to make good his escape when the law officers discovered them, while Fournier himself left the house under armed escort. Dare you deny it, Chernychev?'
'How can I, after all I was not there to see! But you may well be right. It – it was certainly the arrival of the officers which prompted my own flight.'
'Ah! There you are!'
Marianne felt suddenly weak with relief, so that she was obliged to sink down on to the low wall at the base of the railings, giving thanks with all her heart that the Russian had shrunk at that moment, when he might be about to meet his Maker, from adding one more lie to the burden on his soul.
Jason threw a quick glance at her and within the forest of his beard his teeth flashed in a suggestion of a smile.
'We can discuss that later. En garde, sir!'
The two blades engaged with a violence born of the hatred that burned in each man's breast, while Marianne, leaning heavily on Aksakov, could only put her trust in God and embark on a long, tremulous prayer. Chernychev fought like a man with no time to lose, tight-lipped, his face a mask of fury. He was constantly on the attack and his curved blake hissed through the air as fiercely as if he were mowing an invisible field of corn.
Jason, on his side, was content at first merely to parry his strokes without taking the initiative. He had spoken confidently enough but even so the strange weapon took some getting used to, for although somewhat lighter than the seaman's cutlass it was also without a guard. Moreover, he was studying his opponent's swordplay. Feet planted firmly on the ground, the upper part of his body almost motionless and the sword blade whistling about him, he looked like nothing so much as one of those Hindu idols with a multiplicity of arms.
But then, as Chernychev pressed home his attack with renewed vigour, he fell back a pace and in doing so caught his foot against a stone. Marianne cried out sharply and the Russian, taking instant advantage of the momentary mishap, followed up with a lunge that would have pierced the American right through if he had not made a lightning recover and parried the thrust. As it was the sabre merely glanced across his chest leaving a few bright drops of blood in its wake.
This narrow escape roused afresh all the anger which had seemed momentarily to have deserted Jason. Now it was he who began pressing his adversary who gave ground but not quickly enough to avoid a stab in the fleshy part of the arm. Jason pressed home his advantage and a second, more determined stroke wounded Chernychev in the shoulder. He cursed softly and despite the pain attempted a riposte but the American's sword flashed out a third time and caught him in the chest.
He staggered and dropped to his knees as Jason sprang back. His lips writhed in a brave attempt to smile.
'I have it, I think…" he whispered and fainted.
There was a moment's shocked silence. The cossacks stared down at the tall white figure lying on the ground as if they could not believe their eyes. But it lasted no more than a second. As Marianne sped to Jason with a sobbing moan of relief and he let fall the weapon he had just used with such deadly effect, Aksakov ran to his superior officer.
'Come away,' Marianne gasped breathlessly. 'Come away quickly! It was a fair fight and you won but you must not stay here—'
The young captain finished his examination of the wound and turned to look up at them with a combination of anger and relief.
'He is not dead,' he said. 'And it's as well for you he's not, for I would have had you shot without delay.'
Jason was putting on his blouse but at these words he stiffened and, turning slowly, subjected the officer to a haughty stare.
'Is that your conception of honour in an affair between gentlemen? I was the victor, therefore I am free.'
'The laws governing the duel do not hold in time of war. I shall not kill you because you have not killed him but I am taking you with me. You are my prisoner. The Ataman must decide what is to be done with you. Only the lady may go free.'
'But I don't want to!' Marianne protested. 'Either you free us both or you take us both. I will not leave him.'
She clung round Jason's neck but at a word from the Prince two men stepped forward and detached her forcibly while others overpowered Jason and tied him by the wrists to one of their saddlebows.
When she realized that she was being left alone in the panic-stricken city while Jason was led away to an unknown fate, perhaps even to his death, Marianne burst into uncontrollable weeping. She forgot everything, her reason for being in that place, her desire to reach the Emperor and warn him, even the need to find Arcadius and the others. All she knew was that these wild-looking men, hardly one of whom understood a word she said, were like an unyielding wall about to divide her for ever from the man she loved.
When the men restraining her released their hold to mount their horses again, she ran to Aksakov, who was supervising the removal of his captain, and cast herself at his feet.
'I implore you, take me too! What harm can it do? You will have two prisoners instead of one and I demand to share my friend's fate!'
"That may be so, Madame. But it was expressly stated as a condition of the fight that you, and you alone, should be set free. My duty demands it.'
'And what is freedom to me? You make great play with your duty, sir, yet by arresting the victor in an affair of honour you are contravening its first rule! Oh, I beg of you – you cannot know how much this means to me—'
Jason's voice, sounding strangely cold and distant, interrupted her.
'Be quiet, Marianne! I will not have you humble yourself for my sake. I forbid you to entreat him further. If this officer insists on behaving dishonourably I am not going to make one move to prevent him. Nor will I permit you to do so.'