"And the motto ?" "Mea spes supra stella--my hope is beyond the stars." "And the wreath--of parsley, I suppose ?" Now Lempriere understood, and he shook with fury as he roared: "Yes, by God, and to be got at the point of the sword, to put on the heads of insolents like Lord Leicester!" His face was flaming, he was like a cock strutting upon a stable mound.
There fell a slight pause, and then Leicester said: "To-morrow at daylight, eh ?" "Now, my lord, now!" "We have no seconds." "'Sblood! 'Tis not your way, my lord, to be stickling in detail of courtesy." "'Tis not the custom to draw swords in secret, Lempriere of Rozel.

Also my teeth are not on edge to fight you." Lempriere had already drawn his sword, and the look of his eyes was as that of a mad bull in a ring.

"You won't fight with me--you don't think Rozel your equal ?" His voice was high.
Leicester's face took on a hard, cruel look.

"We cannot fight among the ladies," he said quietly.

Lempriere followed his glance, and saw the Duke's Daughter and another in the trees near by.
He hastily put up his sword.