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The Midnight Queen [107]

By Root 2025 0
the

horn-pipe of exasperation he went through when Sir Norman ceased.

The blood was raining from his side, and from the point of his

adversary's sword, as he withdrew it; and, maddened like a wild

beast at the sight of his own blood, he screeched, and foamed,

and kicked about his stout little legs, and gnashed his teeth,

and made grabs at his wig, and lashed the air with his sword, and

made such desperate pokes with it, at Sir Norman and everybody

else who came in his way, that, for the public good, the young

knight run him through the sword-arm, and, in spite of all his

distracted didos, captured him by the help of Hubert, and passed

him over to the soldiers to cheer and keep company with the duke.



This brisk little affair being over, Sir Norman had time to look

about him. It had all passed in so short a space, and the dwarf

had been so desperately frantic, that the rest had paused

involuntarily, and were still looking on. Missing the count, he

glanced around the room, and discovered him standing on Miranda's

throne, looking over the company with the cool air of a

conqueror. Miranda, aroused, as she very well might be by all

this screaming and fighting, had partly raised herself upon her

elbow, and was looking wildly about her. As her eye fell on Sir

Norman, she sat fairly erect, with a cry of exultation and joy.



"You have come, you have come, as I knew you would," she

excitedly cried, "and the hour of retribution is at hand!"



At the words of one who, a few moments before, they had supposed

to be dead, an awestruck silence fell; and the count, taking

advantage of it, waved his hand, and cried



"Yield yourselves prisoners, I command you! The royal guards are

without; and the first of you who offers the slightest resistance

will die like a dog! Ho, guards I enter, and seize your

prisoners!"



Quick as thought the room was full of soldiers! but the rest of

the order was easier said than obeyed. The robbers, knowing

their doom was death, fought with the fury of desperation, and a

snort, wild, and terrible conflict ensued. Foremost in the melee

was Sir Norman and the count; while Hubert, who had taken

possession of the dwarf's sword, fought like a young lion. The

shrieks of the women were heart-rending, as they all fled,

precipitately, into the blue dining-room; and, crouching in

corners, or flying distractedly about - true to their sex - made

the air resound with the most lamentable cries. Some five or

six, braver than the rest, alone remained; and more than one of

these actually mixed in the affray, with a heroism worthy a

better cause. Miranda, still sitting erect, and supported in the

arms of a kneeling and trembling sylph in white, watched the

conflict with terribly-exultant eyes, that blazed brighter and

brighter with the lurid fire of vengeful joy st every robber that

fell.



"Oh, that I were strong enough to wield a sword!" was her fierce

aspiration every instant; "if I could only mix in that battle for

five minutes, I could die with a happy heart!"



Had she been able to wield a sword for five minutes, according to

her wish, she would probably have wielded it from beginning to

end of the battle; for it did not last much longer than that.

The robbers fought with fury and ferocity; but they had been

taken by surprise, and were overpowered by numbers, and obliged

to yield.



The crimson court was indeed crimson now; for the velvet

carpeting was dyed a more terrible red, and was slippery with a

rain of blood! A score of dead and dying lay groaning on the

ground; and the rest, beaten and bloody, gave up their swords and

surrendered.



"You should have done this at first!" said the count, coolly

wiping his blood-stained weapon, end replacing it in its sheath;

"and, by so doing, saved some time and more bloodshed. Where are

all the fair ladies, Kingsley, I saw here when we entered first?"

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