He then put on his spectacles, and having desired Julian to be brought forward, he glared upon him awfully with those glazen eyes, from under the shade of his quilted turban.
“So young,” he said, “and so hardened—lack-a-day!—and a Papist, I’ll warrant.”
Peveril had time enough to recollect the necessity of his being at large, if he could possibly obtain his freedom, and interposed here a civil contradiction of his worship’s gracious supposition. “He was no Catholic,” he said, “but an unworthy member of the Church of England.”
“Perhaps but a lukewarm Protestant, notwithstanding,” said the sage Justice; “there are those amongst us who ride tantivy to Rome, and have already made out half the journey—ahem!”
Peveril disowned his being any such.
“And who art thou, then?” said the Justice; “for, friend, to tell you plainly, I like not your visage—ahem!”
These short and emphatic coughs were accompanied each by a succinct nod, intimating the perfect conviction of the speaker that he had made the best, the wisest, and the most acute observation, of which the premises admitted.
Julian, irritated by the whole circumstances of his detention, answered the Justice’s interrogation in rather a lofty tone. “My name is Julian Peveril!”
“Now, Heaven be around us!” said the terrified Justice—“the son of that black-hearted Papist and traitor, Sir Geoffrey Peveril, now in hands, and on the verge of trial!”
“How, sir!” exclaimed Julian, forgetting his situation, and, stepping forward to the grating, with a violence which made the bars clatter, he so startled the appalled Justice, that, snatching his Protestant flail, Master Maulstatute aimed a blow at his prisoner, to repel what he apprehended was a premeditated attack. But whether it was owing to the Justice’s hurry of mind, or inexperience in managing the weapon, he not only missed his aim, but brought the swinging part of the machine round his own skull, with such a severe counter-buff, as completely to try the efficacy of his cushioned helmet, and, in spite of its defence, to convey a stunning sensation, which he rather hastily imputed to the consequence of a blow received from Peveril.