Scarcely were the tents pitched than Rupert heard himself heartily
saluted, and looking round, saw his friends Lord Fairholm and Sir
John Loveday, who being already in camp had at once sought him out.
"By my faith, Master Holliday, the three months have done wonders
for you; you look every inch a soldier," Lord Fairholm said.
"His very moustache is beginning to show," Sir John Loveday said,
laughing.
Rupert joined in the laugh, for in truth he had that very morning
looked anxiously in a glass, and had tried in vain to persuade
himself that the down on his upper lip showed any signs of
thickening or growing.
"Well, and how many unfortunate English, Dutch, and Germans have
you dispatched since we saw you?"
"Oh, please hush," Rupert said anxiously. "No one knows that I have
any idea of fencing, or that I have ever drawn a sword before I
went through my course of the broadsword here. I would not on any
account that any one thought I was a quarrelsome swordster. You
know I really am not, and it has been purely my misfortune that I
have been thrust into these things."
"And you have never told any of your comrades that you have killed
your man? Or that Dalboy proclaimed you in his salle to be one of
the finest blades in Europe?"
"No, indeed," Rupert said. "Why should I, Sir John?"
"Well, all I can say is, Rupert, I admire your modesty as much as
your skill. There are few fellows of your age, or of mine either,
but would hector a little on the strength of such a reputation.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100