and all breathing together like the wind in a chimney. So twisted and
twined were they that it was hard to pick one from the other, save that
the innermost was clad in black Flemish cloth, while the three who clung
to him were soldiers of the king. Yet so strong and vigorous was the
man whom they tried to hold that as often as he could find his feet he
dragged them after him from end to end of the passage, as a boar might
pull the curs which had fastened on to his haunches. An officer, who
had rushed down at the heels of the brawlers, thrust his hands in to
catch the civilian by the throat, but he whipped them back again with an
oath as the man's strong white teeth met in his left thumb. Clapping
the wound to his mouth, he flashed out his sword and was about to drive
it through the body of his unarmed opponent, when De Catinat sprang
forward and caught him by the wrist.

"You villain, Dalbert!" he cried.

The sudden appearance of one of the king's own bodyguard had a magic
effect upon the brawlers. Dalbert sprang back, with his thumb still in
his mouth, and his sword drooping, scowling darkly at the new-comer.
His long sallow face was distorted with anger, and his small black eyes
blazed with passion and with the hell-fire light of unsatisfied
vengeance. His troopers had released their victim, and stood panting in
a line, while the young man leaned against the wall, brushing the dust
from his black coat, and looking from his rescuer to his antagonists.

"I had a little account to settle with you before, Dalbert," said
De Catinat, unsheathing his rapier.

"I am on the king's errand," snarled the other.