For several minutes there was no cessation in that fearful
clash of steel; the strokes were so rapid, so continued, a hundred
combatants might have seemed engaged. A moment they drew back, as if
to breathe; the Italian, with a despairing effort, raised his weapon
and sprung forwards; Arthur lightly leaped aside, and the murderous
stroke clove but the yielding earth. Another second, and ere the
Italian had regained his equilibrium, Arthur's sword had descended
with so true and sure a stroke that the clasp of the helmet gave way,
the dark blood bubbled up from the cloven brow, he reeled and fell;
and a long, loud shout from the officers and soldiers, who, at the
sound of arms, had flocked round, proclaimed some stronger feeling
than simply admiration of Stanley's well-known prowess.
"Seize him! seize him! or by Heaven he will escape us yet!" were among
the few words intelligible. "The daring villain, to come amongst us!
Did he think for ever to elude Heaven's vengeance? Bind, fetter, hold
him; or his assistant fiends will release him still!"
Fiercely the fallen man had striven to extricate himself; but
Stanley's knee moved not from his breast, nor his sword from his
throat, until a strong guard had raised and surrounded him: "but the
horrible passions imprinted on those lived features were such, that
his very captors turned away shuddering.
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