“It was my fault, your Royal Highness,” he cried, panting. “We quarrelled; I lost my temper and struck him.”
“Who dared to draw?” thundered the Prince.
“We both drew together, your Royal Highness,” cried Frank hurriedly, for fear that Andrew should be beforehand with him; “but I think I was almost the first.”
“You insolent young dogs!” cried the Prince; “how dare you brawl and fight here!—Take away their swords; such boys are not fit to be trusted with weapons. As for you, sir,” he said, turning fiercely on Frank, “like father like son, as you English people say. And you, sir—you are older,” he cried to Andrew. “There, take them away, and keep them till I have decided how they shall be punished.—Come back to my room, gentlemen. Such an interruption is a disgrace to the court.”
He turned and walked toward the door, followed by the three officers, one of whom on entering looked back at the lads and smiled, as if he did not think that much harm had been done.
But neither of the lads saw, for Andrew was whispering maliciously to Frank:
“You dared not speak. You knew how I should be avenged.”
“Yes, I dared; but I wasn’t going to be such a coward,” cried Frank sharply.
“Ah, stop that!” cried the officer who held the boys’ swords, and had just given orders to his men to take their places in front and rear of his prisoners. “Do you want to begin again? Hang it all! wait till you get to the guardroom, if you must fight.”
“Don’t speak to me like that!” cried Andrew fiercely. “It is not the custom to insult prisoners, I believe.”