"There is no king here but I!" screamed the dwarf, gnashing his teeth,
and fairly foaming with rage. "Die; traitor and spy! You have escaped me
once, but your hour is come now."
"Allow me to differ from you," said Sir Norman, politely, as he evaded
the blindly-frantic lunge of the dwarf's sword, and inserted an inch or
two of the point of his own in that enraged little prince's anatomy. "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. 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.