But with one hand,
the blind man grasped the arm of his enemy, seized his weapon,
and hurled him again to the ground.
Pale with rage and shame, Ogareff remembered that he wore a sword.
He drew it and returned a second time to the charge.
A blind man! Ogareff had only to deal with a blind man!
He was more than a match for him!
Nadia, terrified at the danger which threatened her companion
ran to the door calling for help!
"Close the door, Nadia!" said Michael. "Call no one, and leave me alone!
The Czar's courier has nothing to fear to-day from this villain!
Let him come on, if he dares! I am ready for him."
In the mean time, Ogareff, gathering himself together like a tiger
about to spring, uttered not a word. The noise of his footsteps, his
very breathing, he endeavored to conceal from the ear of the blind man.
His object was to strike before his opponent was aware of his approach,
to strike him with a deadly blow.
Nadia, terrified and at the same time confident, watched this terrible
scene with involuntary admiration. Michael's calm bearing seemed
to have inspired her. Michael's sole weapon was his Siberian knife.
He did not see his adversary armed with a sword, it is true; but Heaven's
support seemed to be afforded him. How, almost without stirring,
did he always face the point of the sword?
Ivan Ogareff watched his strange adversary with visible anxiety.
His superhuman calm had an effect upon him. In vain, appealing to
his reason, did he tell himself that in so unequal a combat all the
advantages were on his side.
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