“Damn you, Sir!” interrupts Percy hotly, unable to contain his choler,—“to so defame the noblest lady that ever was born!”
“I repeat,” cries Peggy, glowing with suppressed delight at her lover’s fidelity, and eager for as much more as he may have to vent. “Lady Peggy’s eyes are glued fast of this face of mine! Peggy’s hands are my hands! Peggy’s lips are my lips! Peggy’s kisses have ever been my kisses!”
At this, Sir Percy tears off his coat, waistcoat, cravat; flings them into the corner; rolls up his sleeves, while a confused murmur circulates amid the gallants over their cards and Falernian wine.
“Peggy’s heart beats in my breast!” continues Her Ladyship, ranting and swashing up and down the room; upsetting a couple of candles in her path, and now all unrecking of her womanish shoes. “Gentlemen,” panting, smiling, triumphant, saluting her companions with her weapon, “Lady Peggy and I do so adore, love and worship one another that we are not two but one!”
“Here and now!” shouts Sir Percy. “Off with your coat and ruffles, Sir, and choose any two of these gentlemen to your seconds, Sir; I’ll take who’s left!”
Chalmers and Kennaston press forward to Lady Peggy, while His Grace of Escombe and Mr. Wyatt cross to Sir Percy.
“Lord Kennaston, I pray you pace off the distance,” says Lady Peggy, now at the top of her bent and delirious with joy over Percy’s love of her, with no least intention of touching him, good fencer though she be, and willing enough—such a woman is she—to risk a prick at his hands for sake of the after-salve of the mighty gratitude and passion the minx is now sure of.
“Off with your trappings, Sir,” cries Percy.
“That will I not!” cries Peggy, taking the first position on the field of honor in all the bravery of her twin’s suit of gray velvets. “You’ll kill me, an you do’t at all, with my clothes on ready to my burial, and I swear ye all, with my latest breath, Lady Peggy and I’ll lie in the same coffin when it comes to that ceremony.”
Then in the smoky flare from the dying fire and the slovening candles stuck in their bottles; ’mid the murmur and succeeding hush of the gallants, some with cups, some with cards in their hands, Peggy and her lover salute and take their stands.