“You will pardon me, Master Wildrake,” said the Doctor—“I wait for Master Louis Kerneguy.”
“The devil you do!” exclaimed Wildrake. “Why, I always knew the Scots could do nothing without their minister; but d—n it, I never thought they put them to this use neither. But I have known jolly customers in orders, who understood how to handle the sword as well as their prayer-book. You know the purpose of our meeting, Doctor. Do you come only as a ghostly comforter—or as a surgeon, perhaps—or do you ever take bilboa in hand?—Sa—sa!”
Here he made a fencing demonstration with his sheathed rapier.
“I have done so, sir, on necessary occasion,” said Dr. Rochecliffe.
“Good sir, let this stand for a necessary one,” said Wildrake. “You know my devotion for the Church. If a divine of your skill would do me the honour to exchange but three passes with me, I should think myself happy for ever.”
“Sir,” said Rochecliffe, smiling, “were there no other objection to what you propose, I have not the means—I have no weapon.”
“What? you want the de quoi? that is unlucky indeed. But you have a stout cane in your hand—what hinders our trying a pass (my rapier being sheathed of course) until our principals come up? My pumps are full of this frost-dew; and I shall be a toe or two out of pocket, if I am to stand still all the time they are stretching themselves; for, I fancy, Doctor, you are of my opinion, that the matter will not be a fight of cock-sparrows.”
“My business here is to make it, if possible, be no fight at all,” said the divine.
“Now, rat me, Doctor, but that is too spiteful,” said Wildrake; “and were it not for my respect for the Church, I could turn Presbyterian, to be revenged.”
“Stand back a little, if you please, sir,” said the Doctor; “do not press forward in that direction.”—For Wildrake, in the agitation of his movements, induced by his disappointment, approached the spot where Alice remained still concealed.