Bold Robin—who appeared rather a surly representative of Sherwood’s hero—bore their sallies with an indifferent grace—more especially on perceiving that the eyes of the cuirassier captain became lit up with a peculiar fire, while following Maid Marian through the mazes of the dance.
But the heart of the pseudo-outlaw was destined to be further wrung. A climax was at hand. As Marian came to the close of one of her grandest pas, the movement had inadvertently brought her close to the spot where the cuirassier captain was standing.
“Bravo! beautiful Marian!” cried the latter, bending towards her, and clasping her rudely around the waist. “Allow a thirsty soldier to drink nectar from those juicy lips of thine.”
And without finishing the speech, or waiting for her consent—which he knew would be refused—he protruded his lips through the visor of his helmet, till they came in contact with those of the girl.
A blow from a clenched feminine fist, received right in his face, neither disconcerted nor angered the daring libertine; who answered it by a loud reckless laugh, in which he was joined by his cornet, and chorussed by some of the less sentimental of the spectators.
There were others who did not seem inclined to treat the affair in this jocular fashion.
Cries of “Shame!” “Pitch into him!” “Gie it him, Robin!” were heard among the crowd; and angry faces could be seen mingled with the merry ones.
The idol of England’s peasantry needed not such stimulus to stir him to action. Stung by jealousy, and the insult offered to his sweetheart, he sprang forward; and, raising his crossbow—the only weapon he carried—high overhead, he brought it down with a “thwack” upon the helmet of the cuirassier captain, which caused the officer to stagger some paces backward ere he could recover himself.
“Take that, dang thee!” shouted Robin, as he delivered the blow. “Take that; an’ keep thy scurvy kisses to thyself.”
“Low-born peasant!” cried the cuirassier, his face turning purple as he spoke, “if thou wert worthy a sword, I’d spit thee like a red-herring. Keep off, churl, or I may be tempted to take thy life!”