The Midnight Queen

"There is no king here but I!" screamed the dwarf, gnashing his teeth,

and fairly foaming with rage. "Die; traitor and spy! You have escaped me

once, but your hour is come now."

"Allow me to differ from you," said Sir Norman, politely, as he evaded

the blindly-frantic lunge of the dwarf's sword, and inserted an inch or

two of the point of his own in that enraged little prince's anatomy. "So

far from my hour having come--if you will take the trouble to reflect

upon it--you will find it is the reverse, and that my little friend's

brief and brilliant career in rapidly drawing to a close."

At these bland remarks, and at the sharp thrust that accompanied them,

the dwarfs previous war-dance of anxiety was nothing to the horn-pipe

of exasperation he went through when Sir Norman ceased. The blood was

raining from his side, and from the point of his adversary's sword, as

he withdrew it; and, maddened like a wild beast at the sight of his own

blood, he screeched, and foamed, and kicked about his stout little legs,

and gnashed his teeth, and made grabs at his wig, and lashed the air

with his sword, and made such desperate pokes with it, at Sir Norman and

everybody else who came in his way, that, for the public good, the

young knight run him through the sword-arm, and, in spite of all his

distracted didos, captured him by the help of Hubert, and passed him

over to the soldiers to cheer and keep company with the duke.

This brisk little affair being over, Sir Norman had time to look about

him. It had all passed in so short a space, and the dwarf had been so

desperately frantic, that the rest had paused involuntarily, and were

still looking on. Missing the count, he glanced around the room, and

discovered him standing on Miranda's throne, looking over the company

with the cool air of a conqueror. Miranda, aroused, as she very well

might be by all this screaming and fighting, had partly raised herself

upon her elbow, and was looking wildly about her. As her eye fell on Sir

Norman, she sat fairly erect, with a cry of exultation and joy.

"You have come, you have come, as I knew you would," she excitedly

cried, "and the hour of retribution is at hand!"

At the words of one who, a few moments before, they had supposed to be

dead, an awestruck silence fell; and the count, taking advantage of it,

waved his hand, and cried, "Yield yourselves prisoners, I command you! The royal guards are

without; and the first of you who offers the slightest resistance will

die like a dog! Ho, guards I enter, and seize your prisoners!"

Quick as thought the room was full of soldiers! but the rest of the

order was easier said than obeyed. The robbers, knowing their doom

was death, fought with the fury of desperation, and a snort, wild, and

terrible conflict ensued. Foremost in the melee was Sir Norman and the

count; while Hubert, who had taken possession of the dwarf's sword,

fought like a young lion. The shrieks of the women were heart-rending,

as they all fled, precipitately, into the blue dining-room; and,

crouching in corners, or flying distractedly about--true to their

sex--made the air resound with the most lamentable cries. Some five or

six, braver than the rest, alone remained; and more than one of these

actually mixed in the affray, with a heroism worthy a better cause.

Miranda, still sitting erect, and supported in the arms of a

kneeling and trembling sylph in white, watched the conflict with

terribly-exultant eyes, that blazed brighter and brighter with the lurid

fire of vengeful joy st every robber that fell.