"
"I never will," said de Sigognac, finding his voice at last, "I swear
it, I never will permit an affront to be offered to the adorable
Isabelle in my presence even when I have on my player's mask."
"Well spoken, captain," cried Herode, "well spoken, and bravely. I would
not like to be the man to incur your wrath. By the powers above! what
a fierce reception you gave those rascals yonder. It was lucky for
them that poor Matamore's sword had no edge. If it had been sharp and
pointed, you would have cleft them from head to heels, clean in two, as
the ancient knight-errants did the Saracens, and wicked enchanters."
"Your club did as much execution as my sword, Herode, and your
conscience need not reproach you, for they were not innocents that you
slaughtered this time."
"No, indeed!" the tyrant rejoined, with a mighty laugh, "the flower of
the galleys these--the cream of gallows-birds."
"Such jobs would scarcely be undertaken by any other class of fellows
you know," de Sigognac said; "but we must not neglect to make Scapin's
valiant deeds known, and praise them as they deserve. He fought and
conquered without the aid of any other arms than those that nature gave
him."
Scapin, who was a natural buffoon, acknowledged this encomium with a
very low obeisance--his eyes cast down, his hand on his heart--and with
such an irresistibly comical affectation of modesty and embarrassment
that they all burst into a hearty laugh, which did them much good after
the intense excitement and alarm.
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