“What was I to do?” he demanded, seeking to justify himself in the eyes of Tyrus. “I saw that you were stretched prone upon the ground, and I feared you had been slain. I was disarmed, and that terrible American boy was hitting me so fast that the blows could not be counted. I knew that, in another moment, I would have all three of them upon me. I fled to save my life.”
“You saved it,” said Tyrus, still with that biting touch of scorn. “You saved your life, but it may be that you have lost Flavia.”
“Never!” grated Maro. “I will follow and take her from them!”
“Alone?” asked Tyrus, with that same manner. “You ran from one of them, but now you propose to follow and conquer all three of them. Indeed, Maro, your words and your behavior are inconsistent.”
“We are losing time!” exclaimed Maro.
“We? Why, I thought you were going to do it quite alone.”
“It is you who must lodge the complaint against them, as you did against the Englishman, for you are the uncle and guardian of Flavia.”
“Oh, so you advise that we seek the assistance of the law?”
“It is the better way.”
“In truth I doubted if you actually intended to attack those American fighters, even though you spoke so boldly. You have had quite enough of that, Maro. You still insist that Flavia must be your bride, even though you know now that she scorns you and would prefer death?”