"Ha," said Leicester, "remember you to whom you speak?"
"I speak of her unworthy husband, my lord," repeated Tressilian, "and
my respect can find no softer language. The unhappy young woman is
withdrawn from my knowledge, and sequestered in some secret place of
this Castle--if she be not transferred to some place of seclusion better
fitted for bad designs. This must be reformed, my lord--I speak it as
authorized by her father--and this ill-fated marriage must be avouched
and proved in the Queen's presence, and the lady placed without
restraint and at her own free disposal. And permit me to say it concerns
no one's honour that these most just demands of mine should be complied
with so much as it does that of your lordship."
The Earl stood as if he had been petrified at the extreme coolness
with which the man, whom he considered as having injured him so deeply,
pleaded the cause of his criminal paramour, as if she had been an
innocent woman and he a disinterested advocate; nor was his wonder
lessened by the warmth with which Tressilian seemed to demand for her
the rank and situation which she had disgraced, and the advantages of
which she was doubtless to share with the lover who advocated her cause
with such effrontery. Tressilian had been silent for more than a
minute ere the Earl recovered from the excess of his astonishment; and
considering the prepossessions with which his mind was occupied, there
is little wonder that his passion gained the mastery of every other
consideration. "I have heard you, Master Tressilian," said he, "without
interruption, and I bless God that my ears were never before made to
tingle by the words of so frontless a villain. The task of chastising
you is fitter for the hangman's scourge than the sword of a nobleman,
but yet--Villain, draw and defend thyself!"
As he spoke the last words, he dropped his mantle on the ground, struck
Tressilian smartly with his sheathed sword, and instantly drawing his
rapier, put himself into a posture of assault. The vehement fury of his
language at first filled Tressilian, in his turn, with surprise equal
to what Leicester had felt when he addressed him. But astonishment gave
place to resentment when the unmerited insults of his language were
followed by a blow which immediately put to flight every thought save
that of instant combat. Tressilian's sword was instantly drawn; and
though perhaps somewhat inferior to Leicester in the use of the weapon,
he understood it well enough to maintain the contest with great spirit,
the rather that of the two he was for the time the more cool, since he
could not help imputing Leicester's conduct either to actual frenzy or
to the influence of some strong delusion.