At first, Sidney took no notice of the intrusion; but the studied rudeness becoming unbearable, he at length reproved the offender firmly. At this, Oxford fell into a rage, and ended by ordering the players out of the tennis-court. Sidney met the earl's haughty gaze with one of proud defiance, and answered,—
"If your Lordship had been pleased to express the wish in courteous terms, you would have been met with courtesy, and perchance might have led out those who will not now be driven out with any scourge of fury."
"Puppy!" exclaimed the infuriated earl.
A coarse laugh went up from the spectators, and they immediately began to crowd the tennis-court to see the end of the quarrel. This pleased Oxford much, for he was seeking to make a fine show before them.
Sidney realized that he was surrounded by enemies; but the fact only put him on his mettle, and he demanded, calmly,
"My Lord of Oxford, what is that which you called me?"
"A puppy," repeated the earl, and his followers laughed again.
"That is a lie!" answered Sidney, in tones that rang out clear and sharp.
A bolt from the skies could not have taken his listeners more aback. The spectators looked to see Oxford attack or challenge the slender young courtier who had flung the lie in his teeth; and Sidney himself waited in a fierce quiet for the answer which he, and all present, felt Oxford was bound to make.
The answer did not come. Oxford contented himself with quarreling in a loud voice; but those whom he was trying to impress were not deceived by his bluster, and all present knew that he had proved himself a coward.