"And so say I," replied Lord Darby, "upon my honour;" and following the knight's example, he drew his sword, cast the sheath away from him, and brought his blade across that of his adversary.
"Madmen! what are ye about to do?" cried a stern voice from the wood. "Put up, put up!" and the moment after, the diminutive form of Sir Cesar the astrologer stood directly between them. "What devil," he continued, parting their drawn swords with his bare hands; "what devil has tempted ye--ye, of all other men, destined to bring about each others' happiness--what devil, I say, has tempted ye to point these idle weapons at each other's life?"
"Sir Cesar," said Lord Darby, "I am well aware that you possess the means of seeing into the future by some method, for which scurrilous people hint that you are likely to be damned pretty heartily in the next world; so you are just the person to settle our dispute. But tell us, which it is of us two that is destined to slay the other, and then the one who is doomed to taste cold iron this day will have nothing to do but offer his throat, for depend upon it, only one will leave this spot alive."
"Talk not so lightly of death, young lord," replied the old man, "for 'tis a bitter and unsavoury cup to drink, as thou shalt find when thy brain swims, and thy heart grows sick, and thine eye loses its light, and thy parting spirit reels upon the brink of a dim and shadowy world. But I tell thee that both shall leave this spot alive; though if any one remained upon this sward, full surely it were thyself; for thou art as much fitted to cope with him as the sapling with the thunderbolt of heaven. But listen, each of you, I adjure you: state what you demand of the other; and if, after all, ye be still bent upon blood, blood ye shall have. But full sure am I that now neither fool knows what the other seeks."
Both the antagonists stood silent, gazing first on each other, and then on Sir Cesar, as if they knew not what to reply, and both feeling that there might be some truth in what the old man advanced. At length, however, Lord Darby broke forth, "God's life, what he says is true! Sir Osborne Maurice, what do you seek of me?"
"Speak! speak!" cried Sir Cesar, turning to the knight, who seemed to hesitate; "speak, if the generous blood of a thousand noble ancestors be still warm in your veins! Be candid, and charge him like a man."
Sir Osborne's cheek burned. "The quarrel is of his own seeking," said he, "and what I have to say, I know not how to speak, without violating the confidence of a lady, which cannot be."
"Then I will speak for you," said Sir Cesar. "Lord Darby he demands that you shall yield all claim and all pursuit of Lady Constance de Grey. This is his demand; now for yours. Oh! if I am deceived in you, woe to you and yours for ever!"
"I can scarcely suppose," replied the earl, with bitter emphasis, "that such be this knight's demand, when I see the ring of another lady borne openly in his bonnet; a lady that shall never be his, so long as one drop of blood flows in my veins."
"This ring, my lord," replied Sir Osborne, taking it from the plume of his hat, "was only trusted with me as a deposit to transmit to the person to whom it originally belonged, claiming his advice for a lady, whose affianced lover was, as report said, about to wed another; Sir Cesar, I give it unto you for whom it was intended."