“You have reckoned without your host, Lieutenant,” he said. “You shall not leave my house without paying for this outrage, or at least till we have adjusted our differences. We have a score to settle. You are undeniable as a wrestler; now let us see if you are equally admirable with edged tools.”
“If you think I am going to fight a duel with you, Count, you are greatly mistaken,” answered Von Tressen.
“But you will have to fight me before you leave this place,” Zarka returned. “It is not the custom among Hungarian gentlemen to maul one another like drunken fishwives. We leave that to the tumblers at our fairs and the dancing dogs. The world is too small to hold us both. There is your sword.”
He threw one of the duelling swords down at Von Tressen’s feet.
“I am not in the least afraid of you,” the Lieutenant said, “and should be quite content to settle our quarrel according to your code. But I presume not even the custom among Hungarian gentlemen would sanction my crossing swords with a man who has flung away all right to be looked upon as a man of honour.”
Zarka’s eyes blazed with fury.
“You swagger well, soldier-boy! But it shall not serve you. No man ever yet insulted me with impunity, nor shall you be the first. Pick up that sword and defend yourself, or take the consequences.”
“I must protest against anything of the sort,” interposed Galabin, leaving Philippa and coming forward. “The Lieutenant has a perfect right to refuse your challenge, and you touch an unarmed man at your peril.”
“I accept that,” Zarka retorted.
“You ignore the presence of the lady about whom you affect such interest——”