Lady Peggy flushes under the coffee stains; her arm trembles; but she is valiantly happy and confident, and her heart goes beating the joyfullest sort of a tune beneath the ’broidered waistcoat she’d made for her twin. “And her name,” cries Sir Percy with a glance of imperious, aggressive temper shot right into Peggy’s very face,—“her name’s not Lady Diana Weston, but ’tis Lady Peggy Burgoyne!—” Now Chock’s whole head slips leash, and she bends with bated breath and heaving breast to listen closer. Lady Peggy starts, but waving her rapier over her head, laughs loud, long and derisively. “Lady Peggy Burgoyne, Sir,” shaking the hilt of his weapon under Peg’s nose, repeats Sir Percy. “And until you, Sir, with your damnable arts and silly bumpkin ways, when she encountered you in Kent, had turned her from me, she was to me kindest of ladies and of loves. Your servant, Sir Robin McTart,” concludes Percy with a low bow, sticking the floor with his rapier-point, “when and where you please!” “Here and now!” cries Peg, her heart a-thumping for joy, but so pleasured and alas! so puzzled with the getting out of a scrape, which she has found so little difficulty in getting into, that she is feign on, and make the best cut she can with her cloth. “Here and now!” repeats Her Ladyship, “for I do throw back into Your Lordship’s teeth the lie”—Peg bows low to her opponent—“you gave me whiles, and affirm that for these many years, or ever you, Sir, set eyes upon her, Lady Peggy Burgoyne’s been mine, heart and soul, Sir!” “Damn you, Sir!” interrupts Percy hotly, unable to contain his choler,—“to so defame the noblest lady that ever was born!” “I repeat,” cries Peggy, glowing with suppressed delight at her lover’s fidelity, and eager for as much more as he may have to vent. “Lady Peggy’s eyes are glued fast of this face of mine! Peggy’s hands are my hands! Peggy’s lips are my lips! Peggy’s kisses have ever been my kisses!” At this, Sir Percy tears off his coat, waistcoat, cravat; flings them into the corner; rolls up his sleeves, while a confused murmur circulates amid the gallants over their cards and Falernian wine. “Peggy’s heart beats in my breast!” continues Her Ladyship, ranting and swashing up and down the room; upsetting a couple of candles in her path, and now all unrecking of her womanish shoes. “Gentlemen,” panting, smiling, triumphant, saluting her companions with her weapon, “Lady Peggy and I do so adore, love and worship one another that we are not two but one!” “Here and now!” shouts Sir Percy. “Off with your coat and ruffles, Sir, and choose any two of these gentlemen to your seconds, Sir; I’ll take who’s left!” Chalmers and Kennaston press forward to Lady Peggy, while His Grace of Escombe and Mr. Wyatt cross to Sir Percy.