Feeling herself thus violently released from St. Aulaire's embrace,
Adrienne sprang back, uttering a low cry and gazing in surprise at
Calvert. The ease with which he had flung off the larger and heavier man
aroused her wonder as well as her admiration, for she never imagined
Calvert's slender, boyish figure to be possessed of so much brute
strength, and, since the days of Hercules and Omphale, brute strength in
man has ever appealed to woman. Before either of them could speak, St.
Aulaire struggled to his feet and, wrenching his dress sword from its
sheath, staggered toward Calvert, thrusting wildly and ineffectually at
him.
"Put up your sword, my lord," says Calvert, contemptuously, knocking up
the silver blade with his own, which he had drawn. "We cannot fight
with these toys. Should you wish to pursue this affair with swords or
pistols, if you prefer the English mode, you know where to find me. And
now, begone, sir!"
The quiet sternness with which the young man spoke filled Adrienne with
fresh wonder and something like fear. She glanced from Calvert's face,
with its look of calm authority, to St.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254