"A light weight, but a pretty fighter," Mendoza remarked. "Well hit with
your left, Lord Codlingsby; well parried, Lord Codlingsby; claret drawn,
by Jupiter!"

"Ours is werry fine," the landlord said. "Will your Highness have
Chateau Margaux or Lafitte?"

"He never can be going to match himself against that bargeman!" Rafael
exclaimed, as an enormous boatman--no other than Rullock--indeed, the
most famous bruiser of Cambridge, and before whose fists the Gownsmen
went down like ninepins--fought his way up to the spot where, with
admirable spirit and resolution, Lord Codlingsby and one or two of his
friends were making head against a number of the town.

The young noble faced the huge champion with the gallantry of his race,
but was no match for the enemy's strength and weight and sinew, and
went down at every round. The brutal fellow had no mercy on the lad. His
savage treatment chafed Mendoza as he viewed the unequal combat from the
inn-window. "Hold your hand!" he cried to this Goliath; "don't you see
he's but a boy?"

"Down he goes again!" the bargeman cried, not heeding the interruption.
"Down he goes again: I likes wapping a lord!"

"Coward!" shouted Mendoza; and to fling open the window amidst a shower
of brickbats, to vault over the balcony, to slide down one of the
pillars to the ground, was an instant's work.

At the next he stood before the enormous bargeman.