"Sacr-r-re!" cried a shrill voice, in tones of indignant
remonstrance. "What do you mean, monsieur? Are you drunk, or
crazy, that you come running head foremost into peaceable
citizens, and throwing them heels uppermost on the king's
highway! Stand off, sir! And think yourself lucky that I don't
run you through with my dirk for such an insult!"
At the first sound of the outraged treble tones, Sir Norman had
started back and glared upon the speaker with much the same
expression of countenance as an incensed tiger. The orator of
the spirited address had stooped to pick up his plumed cap, and
recover his centre of gravity, which was considerably knocked out
of place by the unexpected collision, and held forth with very
flashing eyes, and altogether too angry to recognize his auditor.
Sir Norman waited until he had done, and then springing at him,
grabbed him by the collar.
"You young hound!" he exclaimed, fairly lifting him off his feet
with one hand, and shaking him as if he would have wriggled him
out of hose and doublet. "You infernal young jackanapes! I'll
run you through in less than two minutes, if you don't tell me
where you have taken her.
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