"Guard, ravisher,—guard!"
"Ten thousand devils! Who are you?"
"Your obedient servant,—the Duke of Spoleto!"
The Frangipani growled like a trapped bear.
He raised his sword, put forward his shield.
"On with you, dog!" he roared. "Join your wanton under the sod!"
"Ha, say you so?" cried the duke, closing in.
Their swords flashed, yelped, twisted in the air. A down cut hewed the dexter cantrel from the Frangipani's shield. His face with a gashed cheek glared at the duke from under his upreared arm. So close were they that blood spattered in the duke's face as the Frangipani blew the red stream from his mouth and beard.
"'They lied,' he cried. 'Give me but life.'"