Prince Charles leaped to his feet; his face like fire, his eyes glowing. "Enough of this fooling, sir!" he said. "It is easy, but cowardly, to mock at an unfortunate prince. Take your carpet and be off with you, out of the gardens, or your shoulders shall taste my club." "There has been some mistake," Ricardo said; "the wrong carpet has been brought by accident, or the carpet has lost its power." "In this sacred city, blessed by the presence of his Holiness the Pope, and the relics of so many martyrs and saints, magic may well cease to be potent," said the Duke of York. "Nonsense! You are an impostor, sir! Leave my presence!" cried Prince Charles, lifting his golf-club. Dick caught it out of his hand, and broke across his knee as fine a driver as ever came from Robertson's shop at St. Andrew's. "The quarrels of princes are not settled with clubs, sir! Draw and defend yourself!" he said, kicking off his boots and standing in his socks on the grass. Think of the horror of poor Jaqueline, who witnessed this terrible scene of passion from a fold in Prince Ricardo's dress! What could the girl do to save the life of two princes, the hopes of one nation, and of a respectable minority in another? In a moment Prince Charles's rapier was shining in the sunlight, and he fell on guard in the most elegant attitude, his left hand gracefully raised and curved. Dick drew his sword, but, as suddenly, threw it down again. "Hang it!" he exclaimed, "I can't hit you with _this_! This is the Sword of Sharpness; it would cut through your steel and your neck at a touch." He paused, and thought. "Let me beseech your Royal Highness," he said to the Duke of York, who was in a terrible taking, "to lend your blade to a hand not less royal than your own." "Give him it, Hal!" said Prince Charles, who was standing with the point of his sword on the ground, and the blade bent. "He seems to believe in his own nonsense." The duke yielded his sword; Dick took it, made a nourish, and rushed at Prince Charles. Now Ricardo had always neglected his fencing lessons. "Where's the good of it," he used to ask, "all that stamping, and posture-making, and ha- haing? The Sword of Sharpness is enough for _me_." But now he could not, in honour, use the Sword of Sharpness; so on he came, waving the rapier like a claymore, and made a slice at Prince Charles's head. The prince, very much surprised, parried in prime, riposted, and touched Dick on the hand. At this moment the Princess Jaqueline did what she should have thought of sooner. She flew out of Dick's coat, and stung old King James on his royal nose. The king wakened, nearly crushed the princess (so dangerous is the practice of magic to the artist), and then leaped up, and saw Dick's blade flying through the air, glittering in the sun. The prince had disarmed him.