“Liar! witch! sorceress!” exclaimed Phillip; “die with that lie in your throat.”
He made a desperate pass at his injured wife.
His sword was knocked up.
Next moment he was the centre of a fierce and deadly conflict.
The clash of swords, the sound of smashed mirrors, vases, windows, and the like, was heard on every hand.
When Phillip woke next morning he found his house deserted.
No one was nigh.
He lay upon the floor, with a sword cut across his brow, amid the ruins of chairs, tables, glasses, and a thousand fragments of ornaments and furniture.
“Where am I?” he said.