"But surely," someone objected, "in the hands of a skilful swordsman
they would be doubly dangerous?"
"That contingency," I replied, "is worth considering, but a skilful
swordsman would be very unlikely to resort to such methods. Why should
he? If his opponent is a duffer, he has no need to be so tricky. If
on the other hand his opponent is a cool-headed fencer, as skilful as
himself, he knows the penalty of failure too well to make the attempt.
"I need hardly tell you,--though I believe I have mentioned the fact
already,--that when you attack you ought to be particularly careful not
to let yourself go so completely that you cannot recover your defensive
position, if your attack fails.
"All these remarks illustrate how necessary it is to distrust your
enemy, to approach a strange antagonist with caution, and always keep
him at a distance. By retreating the moment you come on guard you
have already provided against a surprise and against wild rushes.
When you are within range, take my advice and do not join blades,
and always, as much as possible, avoid coming to such close quarters
that your opponent can reach you without breaking ground. But do not
misunderstand me when I tell you not to join blades. I do not mean
that you are never to cover yourself, and never to allow the blades
to meet; that would be a mistake. All that I mean is that you should
take care never to allow your opponent to hold your blade. By playing
light and refusing a proffered engagement you put a stop to all forcing
strokes,--_croisés_, beats, binds, _flanconnade_,--which are the most
dangerous of all strokes, because they are the most certain. I call
them certain, because by holding your blade prisoner they control it
forcibly, and make a stop thrust or an exchange of hits impossible.