Wagner, the Wehr-WolfReynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
Science
Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf
Reynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
Penny dreadfuls; Werewolves -- Fiction
"I understand you, signor; we must confer alone," said the marquis. "We
will go out together presently; but in the meantime, one word concerning
the diamonds which the Countess of Arestino----"
"Employed me to procure for her," exclaimed Stephano, finishing the
nobleman's sentence for him. "I presume that old Isaachar here has
informed you of the particulars of my previous visit to him this
night--or rather last night, for it is now the Sabbath morning."
"I am well informed of those particulars, Sir Captain," returned Manuel;
"but I would fain know what has become of the jewels which you obtained
from Isaachar."
"I might with reason question your lordship's right to catechise me----"
"Ah! villain--would you dare?" exclaimed the marquis, his countenance
becoming flushed with rage: for he imagined that the robber chief was
trifling with him. "Far as you are beneath me--wide as is the gulf that
separates the Marquis of Orsini from the proscribed bravo--yet will I
condescend to wreak upon thee, base-born as thou art, that vengeance
which the law has not yet been able to inflict."
And Manuel unsheathed his weapon with such rapidity that the polished
blade of Milan steel flashed like lightning in the glare of the lamp.
"Since this is your object, I will bear with your humor," muttered
Stephano, starting from his seat and drawing his heavy sword.
"My lord--good Signor Verrina--in mercy--not here--I implore----"
ejaculated the Jew, speaking in a piteous tone, and wringing his hands
in alarm at this hostile demonstration.
"Stand back!" thundered the bandit chief; and the Jew retreated to the
most remote corner of the room, where he fell upon his knees and began
to offer up prayers that no blood would be spilt--for he was a humane
and kind-hearted man.
The marquis and the captain of banditti crossed their weapons; and the
combat began. The former was lighter, younger, and therefore, more
active than his opponent; but the latter was far more experienced in the
use of his sword; and, moreover, the space was too narrow to enable the
marquis to gain any advantage from his superior agility. The fight
lasted about ten minutes, when the bandit parried a desperate thrust
that was made at him by his opponent, and at the next moment wounded the
marquis in the sword arm. The weapon fell from Manuel's hand, and he
stood at the mercy of his conqueror.
"You are wounded, my lord--and the blood is flowing!" cried Stephano.
"Hasten, friend Isaachar--and fetch water, bandages----"
"It is nothing--a mere scratch," exclaimed the marquis, tearing away
with his left hand the right sleeve of his doublet, and displaying a
tolerably severe gash, which ran down the forearm lengthwise, and from
which the blood trickled on the floor. "Be kind enough to bind it with
my scarf, Signor Verrina, and let us continue in a more peaceful manner
the discourse which has been somewhat rudely interrupted."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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