"So far from my hour having come - if
you will take the trouble to reflect upon it - you will find it
is the reverse, and that my little friend's brief and brilliant
career in rapidly drawing to a close."
At these bland remarks, and at the sharp thrust that accompanied
them, the dwarfs previous war-dance of anxiety was nothing to 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.
Pages:
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354