CHAPTER XXIV.
"Look doun, look doun now, ladye fair,
On him ye lo'ed sae weel;
A brawer man than yon blue corse
Never drew sword of steel."
The dead silence that ensued was broken first by Guy Livingstone. "It
was well done! I say it and maintain it; Mohun, I envy you that blow!"
He looked round as if to challenge contradiction; but evidently the
general opinion was that Levinge had only got his deserts. By this time
the fallen man had recovered his consciousness, and struggled up, first
into a sitting posture, then to his feet; he stood leaning against a
table, swaying to and fro, and staring about him with wild eyes half
glazed. At last he spoke in a thick, faint voice, stanching all the
while the gushing blood with his handkerchief.
"Will any one here be my second, or must I look for a friend elsewhere?"
There was a pause, and then from the circle stepped forth Camille de
Rosny. He did not like Levinge, and thought in the present instance he
had behaved infamously, but it was the fashion hereditary in his gallant
house to back the losing side; so, when he saw every one else shrink
from the appeal, he bowed gravely and said,
"I shall have that honor, if you will permit me.
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