'Hola, house! Hola, within!' it cried.
'What would ye, gentles?' cried the voice of the hostess.
''Slight, to come in, woman. Open quickly,' said the traveller.
'Despatch, despatch, Jem,' cried the landlady. 'See you not it is a gentleman and his gentleman servant? In good time, your worship. My goodman is in bed. Be patient till he make shift, that we be not shamed, and he shall let you in. Will Ostler, Will Ostler, wake up, you loon, and take the horses! Was ever such luck? Mass! but I knew we should have travellers ever since last Tuesday, when I could not sleep for dreaming of green rushes, and that's for strangers.'
I could not speak, or stir, or think, but only stand by the hearth and stupidly mark what the shrill voice of the hostess said. Yet I had strength to resolve, come what might, I would not draw my blade.
It seemed an age of silence, broken only by muttered words for a moment without, and then the door burst open, and Harry, covered with mud, strode in with his rapier drawn in his hand and his cloak about his left arm. Culverin followed at his heels, and, slamming the door after him, stood solidly in front of it, while Harry advanced towards us.
There seemed no anger in his face, but rather sorrow and set purpose, as he came quickly forward. I stood where I was, hoping in a moment to feel his point and have an end to all; but Mrs. Waldyve made a sudden movement, half of horror, half as though to protect me.
Harry stopped in a moment with lowered point, and looked at her with a face in which was such a constant love and unspeakable pain as tears my heart to this hour to think on. Then, setting hard his teeth, he lifted his rapier on high and flung it with all his might crashing through the window into the yard outside.
I heard the clang of the broken glass. I heard the Sergeant's great broadsword come screaming from its sheath. I saw Harry stand trembling with set face, trying in vain to speak with steady voice; and the Sergeant, rigid as a column, at the door with his drawn sword, his naked dagger, and his bristling moustache.
A choking sound came at last from Harry's lips, in which there seemed no trace of his own clear, ringing voice.