He stared at me, with his black brows drawn together. “It is not of your choosing nor for your wearing, sir,” he rejoined haughtily. “And your sword knot is villainously tied,” I continued. “And I like not such a fire-new, bejeweled scabbard. Mine, you see, is out at heel.” “I see,” he said dryly. “The pinking of your doublet suits me not, either,” I declared. “I could make it more to my liking,” and I touched his Genoa three-pile with the point of my rapier. A loud murmur arose from the crowd, and the Governor started forward, crying out, “Captain Percy! Are you mad?” “I was never saner in my life, sir,” I answered. “French fashions like me not,--that is all,--nor Englishmen that wear them. To my thinking such are scarcely true-born.” That thrust went home. All the world knew the story of my late Lord Carnal and the waiting woman in the service of the French ambassador's wife. A gasp of admiration went up from the crowd. My lord's rapier was out, the hand that held it shaking with passion. I had my blade in my hand, but the point was upon the ground. “I'll lesson you, you madman!” he said thickly. Suddenly, without any warning, he thrust at me; had he been less blind with rage, the long score which each was to run up against the other might have ended where it began. I swerved, and the next instant with my own point sent his rapier whirling. It fell at the Governor's feet. “Your lordship may pick it up,” I remarked. “Your grasp is as firm as your honor, my lord.” He glared at me, foam upon his lips. Men were between us now,--the Governor, Francis West, Master Pory, Hamor, Wynne,--and a babel of excited voices arose. The diversion I had aimed to make had been made with a vengeance. West had me by the arm. “What a murrain is all this coil about, Ralph Percy? If you hurt hair of his head, you are lost!” The favorite broke from the Governor's detaining hand and conciliatory speech. “You'll fight, sir?” he cried hoarsely. “You know that I need not now, my lord,” I answered. He stamped upon the ground with rage and shame; not true shame for that foul thrust, but shame for the sword upon the grass, for that which could be read in men's eyes, strive to hide it as they might, for the open scorn upon one face. Then, during the minute or more in which we faced each other in silence, he exerted to some effect that will of which he had boasted. The scarlet faded from his face, his frame steadied, and he forced a smile. Also he called to his aid a certain soldierly, honest-seeming frankness of speech and manner which he could assume at will. “Your Virginian sunshine dazzleth the eyes, sir,” he said. “Of a verity it made me think you on guard. Forgive me my mistake.” I bowed. “Your lordship will find me at your service. I lodge at the minister's house, where your lordship's messenger will find me. I am going there now with my wife, who hath ridden a score of miles this morning and is weary. We give you good-day, my lord.”