Alpha Book

The foils he once used so
well hang untouched and rusty above his fireplace, but his reputation
survives the lost strength of his supple wrist, and there are few in
Rome, brave men or hairbrained youths, who would willingly anger him
even now. He is still the great duellist of his day; the emaciated
fingers might still find their old grip upon a sword hilt, the long,
listless arm might perhaps once more shoot out with lightning speed, the
dull eye might once again light up at the clash of steel. Peaceable,
charitable when none are at hand to see him give, gravely gentle now in
manner, Count Spicca is thought dangerous still. But he is indeed very
lonely in his old age, and if the truth be told his fortune seems to
have suffered sadly of late years, so that he rarely leaves Rome, even
in the hot summer, and it is very long since he spent six weeks in Paris
or risked a handful of gold at Monte Carlo. Yet his life is not over,
and he has still a part to play, for his own sake and for the sake of
another, as shall soon appear more clearly.


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