If only the last of them had had the amiability to be intimidated by my prowess and to have taken to his heels, I might have issued from that contest with the unscathed glory of a very Mars.

But from his throat there came, in answer to his comrade's cry, a roar of rage.

He fell back from Madonna, and wheeled his horse to come at me, drawing his sword as he advanced.
"Ride on, Madonna," I shouted.

"I will rejoin you presently." The fellow laughed, a mighty ugly and discomposing laugh, which may or may not have shaken her faith in my promise to rejoin her.

It certainly went near to shaking mine.