The hall was now but scantily supplied with guests; the runaways and
wounded having diminished the numbers to some half-score. A parley was
now sounded by the victorious and pursuing enemy.
"Hold, ye lubberly rascals! Ye scum--ye recrement--why do ye run?" said
the knight, puffing with great vigour. "I say, why run ye!" brandishing
his club. "Bring hither that limb of Satan, and ye shall depart every
one to his home. Lay hold of him, I tell ye, and begone."
But these terms of capitulation were by no means so easy to accept as
the proposer imagined.
The first mover of the mischief had gotten himself perched on a
projecting ledge by the gallery, from whence they were either unable or
unwilling to dislodge him.
"How!" said the knight. "Ye are afraid, cowards, I trow. Now will I have
at thee, for once. I'll spoil thy capering!" This threat was followed by
a blow aimed at the devoted representative from the infernal court; but
it failed to dismount him, for he merely shrunk aside, and it was
rendered harmless. Another and a more contumelious laugh announced this
failure. Even the Black Knight grew alarmed.
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