eyes blazed and his fingers fell round the trigger. Rivoli recoiled.
"I don't want to shoot you, unarmed, Coward," he said quietly. "I am going to shoot you, or stab you, or slash you, in fair fight—or else you shall kneel and be christened Rivoli the Coward on the barrack square.… I've had enough of you, and so has everybody—unless it's your gang of pimps.… Now go. Go on—get out.… Go on—before I lose patience. Clear out—and make up your mind whether you will fight or be christened."
"Oh, I'll fight you—you mangy old cur. You are brave enough with a loaded rifle, eh? Mother of Christ! I'll send you where the birds won't trouble you.… Shoot me in the back as I go, Brave Man with a Gun"—and Luigi Rivoli departed, in a state of horrid doubt and perturbation.… This cursed Englishman meant what he said.…
Legionary John Bull lowered his rifle with a laugh, and became aware of the fact that the Russian girl was hugging his leg in a way which would have effectually hampered him in the event of a struggle, and which made him feel supremely ridiculous.
"Get up, petite," he said bending over her, as she lay moaning and weeping. "It's all right—he's gone. He won't trouble you again, for I am going to kill him. Come and lie on your bed and tell me all about it.… We must make up our minds as to what will be the best thing to do.… Rivoli will tell everybody."
He helped the girl to her feet, partly led and partly carried her to her bed, and laid her on it.
Holding his lean brown hand between her little ones, in a voice broken and choked with sobs, she told him
