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Chapter 7

           TherewasamurmurevenamongtheattendantsofPrinceJohn;butDeBracy,whoseprofessionfreedhimfromallscruples,extendedhislonglanceoverthespacewhichseparatedthegalleryfromthelists,andwouldhaveexecutedthecommandsofthePrincebeforeAthelstanetheUnreadyhadrecoveredpresenceofmindsufficienteventodrawbackhispersonfromtheweapon,hadnotCedric,aspromptashiscompanionwastardy,unsheathed,withthespeedoflightning,theshortswordwhichhewore,andatasingleblowseveredthepointofthelancefromthehandle.ThebloodrushedintothecountenanceofPrinceJohn.Hesworeoneofhisdeepestoaths,andwasabouttouttersomethreatcorrespondinginviolence,whenhewasdivertedfromhispurpose,partlybyhisownattendants,whogatheredaroundhimconjuringhimtobepatient,partlybyageneralexclamationofthecrowd,utteredinloudapplauseofthespiritedconductofCedric.ThePrincerolledhiseyesinindignation,asiftocollectsomesafeandeasyvictim;andchancingtoencounterthefirmglanceofthesamearcherwhomwehavealreadynoticed,andwhoseemedtopersistinhisgestureofapplause,inspiteofthefrowningaspectwhichthePrincebentuponhim,hedemandedhisreasonforclamouringthus.

           "Ialwaysaddmyhollo,"saidtheyeoman,"whenIseeagoodshot,oragallantblow."

           "Saystthou?"answeredthePrince;"thenthoucansthitthewhitethyself,I’llwarrant."

           "Awoodsman’smark,andatwoodsman’sdistance,Icanhit,"answeredtheyeoman.

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