Craftall had by this time reached the door. Instead of drawing it open, however, he proceeded to lock it, and then, with a quiet smile on his face, turned to meet Bernard again. As he did so, Bernard held up the crucifix, and his smile, which had risen in exultation, passed into a quick spasm. “I hold thee mine!” cried Bernard. “But the Spirit is upon me! The fire thou wot’st of, that makes saints, is blistering my very heart. I might do thee harm: so I’ll leave thee now.” Thus speaking, he made towards the outer door. Before he could reach it, however, Craftall, nerved by despair, sprang after him, and fastened on his arm. “Mercy! mercy!” he said. “Mercy to a Papist!” cried Bernard. “Ha! ha!” And, with a slight effort, he threw the supplicant from him, and dashed into the street. CHAPTER IX. True courage, distinguished from that which is called forth by particular occasions, and the operation of a powerful and headlong excitement, comprehends not only a contempt for danger, but self-possession under surprise. To meet an expected peril, for which we have had time to prepare, is a trial only for the most ordinary minds; but to retain firmness and judgment under a shock, attended by circumstances of which we could have no possible anticipation, and which render the danger more striking and formidable, undoubtedly requires a brave and intrepid spirit. Hildebrand, on the entry into his retreat of two armed men, one of whom he recognised as an individual that he had supposed to be in England, certainly experienced no small surprise; but, despite of this, he was perfectly firm and collected. On the other hand, Inez was quite confounded, and her presence of mind, which she had hitherto maintained entire, appeared to have utterly deserted her. There was no time for hesitation. The two intruders, preparatory to making an onset, had already unsheathed their rapiers, and, if the expression of their respective countenances might be received as evidence, seemed to be stirred and animated by the most determined hostility. The posture taken up by Hildebrand, however, and his evident resolution, induced them to pause, and, after a moment’s interval, to enter on a parley. “Surrender, Sir!” cried Don Felix. “We have a warrant from the corregidor, apart from any suit of our own, for thine immediate apprehension.” “I cry you mercy, Senhor,” replied Hildebrand, “but, with thy good leave, I must hold thy warrant in exceeding doubt. Thou art no alguazil, I know; and, this admitted (and ’tis past dispute), where be the powers that will put the warrant in force?” “Thou shalt see them anon,” answered Don Felix. And, raising his voice, he added, in Spanish, “Without, there!”