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"What, Blaize!" replied Pillichody. "Thunder and lightning! don't you remember Bernard Boutefeu, the watchman?" "I don't remember any watchman of that name, and I cannot discern your features," rejoined Blaize. "But your voice sounds familiar to me. What are you doing there?"
The latter was habited like the other watchman, in a blue night-rail, and was armed with a halberd. He answered to the name of Bernard Boutefeu. They had no sooner entered the shop, than Leonard locked the door. "Who are these persons?" asked Amabel, rising in great alarm. "Two watchmen whom I have hired to guard the house," replied Leonard.
"Bless your tender heart!" cried Boutefeu, "we would not pain you for the world." "A truce to this," said Leonard. "Come to the yard, we will wait for him there." "I will go with you," cried Amabel. "If any harm should befall him, I should never forgive myself." "Remember what I told you," rejoined Leonard, sternly; "it depends upon yourself whether he leaves the house alive."
As he spoke, his arms were suddenly seized by a powerful grasp from behind, and, striking the pistols from his hold, the earl snatched up Amabel in his arms, and, mounting the ladder, made good his retreat. A long and desperate struggle took place between Leonard and his assailant, who was no other than Pillichody, in his assumed character of Bernard Boutefeu.
"We are come to protect you, fair mistress," said Gregory, "and, if need be, to cut the Earl of Rochester's throat." "Oh heavens!" exclaimed Amabel. "Ghost of Tarquin!" cried Boutefeu, "we'll teach him to break into the houses of quiet citizens, and attempt to carry off their daughters against their will. By the soul of Dick Whittington, Lord Mayor of London! we'll maul and mangle him." "Silence!
Bernard Boutefeu," interposed Gregory. "You frighten Mistress Amabel by your strange oaths." "I should be sorry to do that," replied Boutefeu "I only wish to show my zeal for her. Don't be afraid of the Earl of Rochester, fair mistress. With all his audacity, he won't dare to enter the house when he finds we are there."
This being done, the lordly New Year from the upper end of the table, in a cordial but somewhat lofty tone, returned thanks. Which rudeness of his, the guests resenting, unanimously voted his expulsion; and the male-content was thrust out neck and heels into the cellar, as the properest place for such a boutefeu and firebrand as he had shown himself to be.