“I shall not fight with you,” he said after a long pause. “If you grudge us any of his property, take as much as you please, but render us back our father.”
“Will not fight!” exclaimed Appadocca, “I had imagined that your father was the only selfish coward in an old race of reputedly brave men.”
“Coward do you call me?” inquired young Willmington, with a frown.
“Ay, coward,” answered Appadocca. “First you made a thrust at me when my attention was directed otherwise, and now you seek to wound my feelings by supposing the possibility that I could grudge you your father’s wealth. Grudge, indeed! his most precious jewels would disgrace me. My men, however—the friends that received me, shall enjoy it. Coward, ay, thrice four times coward; again, and again, I proclaim you as such.”
“No more, defend yourself,” cried young Willmington, and he clutched the sword which Appadocca had laid on the table.
Young Willmington warmly pressed on Appadocca who still stood on the defensive. Thrust after thrust, lunge after lunge came in rapid succession from young Willmington. Respiration came short and quickly. He made a desperate thrust at Appadocca, who with a slight but quick movement of the wrist at once disarmed his adversary.
Young Willmington bowed haughtily, while his face grew crimson with vexation.
Appadocca quickly picked up the sword and presented it again to the young officer.
“No, no, I am satisfied,” said the last-mentioned person, and refused it.
“You ought scarcely to be so, sir. Recollect this is the only chance that will probably be afforded you,” replied Appadocca, “to recover your father. Try it again.”