"If it is possible," said Brand. "Were you listening outside, or did
you wear felt slippers? I should have heard you in that paved
corridor."
The Duke struck Brand across the face. The American remained
perfectly still in his seat, laughing slightly, but otherwise unmoved.
"Thank you," he said; "exactly what I wanted. Shall it be swords or
revolvers?"
"This is ridiculous; I cannot stoop to fight a commoner."
"Your Royal Highness prefers to be publicly thrashed?"
"I am commandant of this fortress!"
"Of course," said the master, quietly; "so you struck the Queen's
guest."
"You are my prisoner!"
"Well," Brand laughed, "that gets you off all right--don't have to
fight when you're frightened."
The Duke was beside himself with rage. "Now you're trying to back
out! You shall fight me, sir! You shall fight!"