Chapter 13—A Royal Salute
“Then I take your bishop, major,” said Colonel Murphy, as he made a move that he had taken since the previous evening to consider.
“I was afraid you would,” replied Major Oliphant, looking intently at the chess-board.
Such was the way in which a long silence was broken on the morning of the 17th of February by the old calendar.
Another day elapsed before another move was made. It was a protracted game; it had, in fact, already lasted some months—the players being so deliberate, and so fearful of taking a step without the most mature consideration, that even now they were only making the twentieth move.
Both of them, moreover, were rigid disciples of the renowned Philidor, who pronounces that to play the pawns well is “the soul of chess”; and, accordingly, not
