“Dost thou defy me, rude one?” said the duke. “Ods nick and nack! I will go to a main extremity. Luiz, do you remove her; cast her out, Luiz. Ods my good soul! must I be bearded in mine own presence by a rib out of mine own flesh.” This starched and dignified grandee had long thrown his ceremonious mien to the wind. He walked up and down his apartment, pishing and tushing, snapping his fingers and almost weeping with anger. “Dost thou hear me, Luiz? Put her out, I say, put her out! Or wouldst thou have me do it, Luiz, with the reverend hand of mine own paternity?” Don Luiz approached the little countess warily enough, as though he were not so fond of his task. The proud madam drew herself up into an aspect of the most splendid fierce grandeur. “Do not touch me, fat man,” she said. “Do not lay so much as a finger upon my gown, or, as I am a person, you shall swing, bulk and everything, from the topmost turret of this castle. From this day I am master here and mistress too.” The abashed fat man stopped and hesitated and looked at the duke despairingly. “Luiz, Luiz,” said his master, “why do you not take her by the shoulders and put her out of the room? Or would you have me do it, Luiz, by the might of mine own paternity?” It was clear, although Don Luiz made no such confession, that he would have preferred that his august master should have put the countess out of the room by the might of his own paternity. But the Lady Sylvia’s baffled parent showed no disposition to come near her; and, fume as he would, there appeared to be nothing in his nature to compel the enforcement of his authority. Finding himself in the imminent danger of defeat, for Don Luiz still remained tardy and unwilling, he had recourse, as was only to be expected of a weak and inferior spirit, to those offenders who were not so well placed to outface his wrath. “Luiz,” he said, “I would have you summon the guard, and arrest these two cut-throats that madam hath picked out of a hedge tavern; and do you see to it that they hang in a quarter of an hour.” The gentleman-usher being much better able to execute this order than the former one, made haste to do so. “My friends,” said our mistress, who in her anger, her defiance, and her turbulence had never looked so adorable, “come to the high ground behind the table near the window. Draw your swords and play them well if you are pressed. But, as I am a person, they shall not dare to touch you. For mark it, and, your lordship’s grace, do you mark it too, if one of these knaves so much as lays a finger against the doublet of my friends, I will slay him with mine own poniard.” To make good her speech she turned to the dwarf and said in a voice of the highest courage, “Give me your dagger, sirrah.” Instead of obeying, the dwarf, with a vacuous grin, looked towards the duke for a direction. Before he could withdraw his gaze the countess had struck him on the cheek with the butt of the riding-whip she still bore in her hand.