Lord Martin, with a stately air, advanced a few steps. In spite
however of all the heroism he could assume, as the important affair drew
towards a crisis, he began to tremble. Mr. Prettyman fell upon his knees,
and sir William put a cane into his hand. But in this posture the beau
remained still somewhat taller than his antagonist. "Most worthy lord,"
cried he in a tremulous voice, "I am truly sorry for the misunderstanding
that has happened, and I am filled with the most ardent"----While he was
yet speaking he advanced the cane in the attitude of presenting it.
"Villain," said lord Martin, who between fear and rage could no longer
contain himself, and snatched it from his hand. But he could scarcely
reach beyond the shoulder of his enemy, and blinded with emotion and
exertion, instead of directing his blows as he ought to have done, he
struck him two or three very severe strokes on the head and face. The beau
bore it as long as he could. But at length bellowing out, "_Mon Dieu, je
suis meurtrie_, I am beaten to a jelly," he rose from his knees. His
antagonist being between him and the door, he fairly threw him upon his
back, and flying out of the room he stopped not till he arrived at the
inn, where, ordering his phaeton and six, he ascended without a moment's
pause, and drove off for London.
In the mean time, every thing in the public room was in confusion and
disorder.
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