So with his left arm he swept the frail figure of the San Juan belle aside, and at the same time thrust out with his sword.
The weapon met that of Roderic eagerly advanced to receive the thrust, and immediately there followed a clashing and rasping as steel continued to smite its like.
Georgia, finding her efforts to keep the two men apart futile, fell back in dismay from the flash of the writhing swords.
The spectacle appeared to fascinate her for a brief time, so that with clasped hands she stood and gazed, her breath coming in gasps, and with each breath a fervent prayer that the Holy Virgin would intervene to prevent these two men, each of whom was so dear to her, from shedding one another's blood.
Then of a sudden she uttered a bubbling cry—it was not because one or the other had gained the least advantage, for they were still at it, hammer and tongs, the giant man of war trying all his tricks and clever thrusts with disheartening results—a bright thought had flashed into the girl's bewildered brain.
Since Don Porfidio refused to hearken when she attempted to explain matters, perhaps the same hoped-for cessation of active hostilities might be attained through another means.
"A light—let me find a lamp—please Heaven it may not be too late, and these hot heads slaughter each other while I am gone," was what she cried.
No one noticed her disappearance through the door where hung the Bagdad curtains, for both of the gentlemen had their attention fully occupied in another quarter.
When a ferocious old military hero with all his long pent-up love for bloody scenes bursting forth is diligently thrusting right and left with a keen pointed sword, his eagerness increasing with each and every defeat of his plans, there is little chance to observe what may be passing even in the confines of the same apartment.
That was Roderic's condition.