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.

The rencontre had continued for several minutes, without either party receiving a wound, when of a sudden voices were heard beneath the portico which formed the entrance of the terrace, mingled with the steps of men advancing hastily.  “We are interrupted,” said Leicester to his antagonist; “follow me.”

At the same time a voice from the portico said, “The jackanape is right—­they are tilting here.”

Leicester, meanwhile, drew off Tressilian into a sort of recess behind one of the fountains, which served to conceal them, while six of the yeomen of the Queen’s guard passed along the middle walk of the Pleasance, and they could hear one say to the rest, “We shall never find them to-night among all these squirting funnels, squirrel cages, and rabbit-holes; but if we light not on them before we reach the farther end, we will return, and mount a guard at the entrance, and so secure them till morning.”

“A proper matter,” said another, “the drawing of swords so near the Queen’s presence, ay, and in her very palace as ’twere!  Hang it, they must be some poor drunken game-cocks fallen to sparring—­’twere pity almost we should find them—­the penalty is chopping off a hand, is it not?—­’twere hard to lose hand for handling a bit of steel, that comes so natural to one’s gripe.”