Defenceless and exposed, the uplifted sword of his adversary was raised
for his destruction, when suddenly the arm of the ruffian was arrested,
the weapon snatched from his grasp, and a female figure habited in a
dark and coarse vestment stood between the combatants. Her brow was
bare, and her dark full eye beamed on them with a look of pity and of
anger. Her naturally pale cheek was flushed; but it betrayed not the
agitation she endured. Erect and unbending she stood before them, and
the quailing miscreant crouched at her feet.
"Away to thy master!--thy blood, too worthless even for thine own
steel"----
She hurled away the weapon as she spoke.
Burning with revenge at his late defeat, Anthony flew after the falling
brand: seizing it, he renewed the attack. Michael fled towards the
bridge. With the bound of a bereaved tiger Anthony sprung upon his prey.
Just where the root of the trunk rested on the bank they closed, after a
desperate lunge parried by the unprotected arm of Michael. It was
disabled--but he still clung to his enemy. Anthony strove to disengage
himself; but the other, aware that life or death depended on the issue
of that struggle, hung on him with a convulsive tightness that rendered
the advantage he had gained of no avail.
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