"We will either fight you with swords or not at all. We do
not fight with our bare knuckles, being civilised. And that indeed
proves that you are no true lover of the French, but an English dog of
unknightly birth."
This retort still further irritated the hot-headed son of Malise.
"I will fight you or any galley slave of a French frog with the sword,
or spit you upon the rapier. I will cleave you with the axe, transfix
you with the arrow, or blow you to the pit with the devil's sulphur. I
will fight any of you or all of you with any weapons from a
battering-ram to a toothpick--and God assist the better man. And there
you have Laurence O'Halloran, at your service!"
"You are a loud-crowing young cock for a newcomer," said Henriet, the
confidential clerk of the marshal, suddenly appearing in the doorway;
"you are desired to follow me to my lord's chamber immediately. There
we will see if you will flap your wings so boldly."
Laurence could not help noticing the blank alarm which this
announcement caused among the youth with whom he had been playing the
ancient game of brag.
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