KENILWORTH - Penn State University

Sir Walter ScottAs he spoke the last words, he dropped his mantle on theground, struck Tressilian smartly with his sheathed sword,and instantly drawing his rapier, put himself into a posture ofassault. The vehement fury of his language at first filledTressilian, in his turn, with surprise equal to what Leicesterhad felt when he addressed him. But astonishment gave placeto resentment when the unmerited insults of his language werefollowed by a blow which immediately put to flight everythought save that of instant combat. Tressilian’s sword wasinstantly drawn; and though perhaps somewhat inferior toLeicester in the use of the weapon, he understood it wellenough to maintain the contest with great spirit, the ratherthat of the two he was for the time the more cool, since hecould not help imputing Leicester’s conduct either to actualfrenzy or to the influence of some strong delusion.The rencontre had continued for several minutes, withouteither party receiving a wound, when of a sudden voices wereheard beneath the portico which formed the entrance of theterrace, mingled with the steps of men advancing hastily. “Weare interrupted,” said Leicester to his antagonist; “follow me.”At the same time a voice from the portico said, “Thejackanape is right—they are tilting here.”Leicester, meanwhile, drew off Tressilian into a sort of recessbehind one of the fountains, which served to concealthem, while six of the yeomen of the Queen’s guard passedalong the middle walk of the Pleasance, and they could hearone say to the rest, “We shall never find them to-night amongall these squirting funnels, squirrel cages, and rabbit-holes;but if we light not on them before we reach the farther end,we will return, and mount a guard at the entrance, and sosecure them till morning.”“A proper matter,” said another, “the drawing of swords so nearthe Queen’s presence, ay, and in her very palace as ‘twere! Hang it,they must be some poor drunken game-cocks fallen to sparring—’twere pity almost we should find them—the penalty is choppingoff a hand, is it not?—’twere hard to lose hand for handlinga bit of steel, that comes so natural to one’s gripe.”“Thou art a brawler thyself, George,” said another; “buttake heed, for the law stands as thou sayest.”“Ay,” said the first, “an the act be not mildly construed; forthou knowest ’tis not the Queen’s palace, but my Lord ofLeicester’s.”427