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62
MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE
There is a lonely spot back of Bedford House and just outside the pales of the Duke's Park, which the moon rides high over and bathes with a pallid, clear light. And strange sights this bit of smooth turf has revealed to the sleepy watch making its rounds. Bits of torn lace, a blood-soaked cambric frill, jeweled buckles with torn leather clasps, a trampled purse, sometimes a broken, red-stained rapier, are the souvenirs of departed guests.
And on such a moon-clear night two
A lunge — a parry — a shivering of steel, and Chivy drew back, to find that his blade had been turned neatly aside.
Then the nerve-jarring scraping of steel against steel again; the quick turn of a wrist; the soft pound of slippered feet on the sod, and always the nonchalant actor stood unhurt before the seeking sword.
A madness fell upon Chivy, flooding his brain with hot blood, and he pressed closer and closer, seeking the
DANGLING FROM THE ACTOR 's HANDS WERE TWO WIGS
men in shirt-sleeves faced each other on the duelling-ground, their blades a-quiver with light, like fairy wands.
"I'm a fool!" thought one, a finefigured man, in plum-colored breeches and cambric frilled shirt — "a twice discovered fool." And with that he gave his salute and set his narrow blade at play against his opponent 's.
There were resentment, rage, murder in the close-set eyes of the slighted lover, Chivy, the discarded one, and his wrist was a-tremble to seek the actor's heart and be done with it.
still heart beneath the frail shirt. "Kill, kill, kill!" sang the words in his tortured brain.
"I must not harm him — she is dear to him." With each deft parry the thought echoed in Garrick's mind and steeled his passions against a riposte. Solemnly, calmly, with his sad face turned as pallid as the moon, he defended his life against the attack of the infuriated lover.
A maddened thrust at close range — the grip of fingers on his blade.
"You cur!"
Garrick twisted his rapier free, and