the mob was against everybody, chiefly against
the Cardinal, and the brutal ruffians of the Prince's following
lurked about, bullying every one who gave them umbrage, with some
hope of terrifying the Parliament magistrates into siding with them.
It was therefore no great surprise to Eustace and Sir Francis Ommaney
the next evening, when they were coming back on foot from the Louvre,
to hear a scuffle in one of the side streets.
They saw in a moment half of dozen fellows with cudgels falling on a
figure in black, who vainly struggled to defend himself with a little
thin walking rapier. Their English blood was up in a moment two
masked figures and hearing them egging on their bravoes with 'Hola,
there! At him! Teach him to look at a lady of rank.'
The little rapier had been broken. A heavy blow had made the
victim's arm fall, he had been tripped up, and the rascals were still
belabouring him, when Eustace and Sir Francis sprang in among them,
crying, 'Hold, cowardly rascals!' striking to the right and left,
though with the flat of their swords, of which they were perfect
masters, for even in their wrath they remembered that these rogues
were only tools. And no doubt they were not recognized in the
twilight, for one of the masked gentlemen exclaimed:
'Stop, sir! this is not a matter for gentlemen. This is the way we
punish the insolence of fellows whose muddy blood would taint the
swords of a noble.
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