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Updated: June 18, 2025
In a half-minute Forister and I, in our shirts, faced each other. And now I passed into such a state of fury that I cannot find words to describe it; but, as I have said, I was possessed with a remarkable clearness of vision and strength of arm. These phenomena amaze me even at this day. I was so airy upon my feet that I might have been a spirit. I think great rages work thus upon some natures.
Forister was seated negligently at a table in the centre of the room. His legs were crossed, but his naked sword lay on the table at his hand. He had the first word, because I was amazed, almost stunned, by the precipitous opening of the door.
And there was Forister's bright sword. That was another matter. But to my descendants I declare that my hesitation did not endure an instant. Forister might have an arm so supple and a sword so long that he might be able to touch the nape of his neck with his own point, but I was firm on English soil. I would meet him even if he were a chevaux de frise. Little it mattered to me.
"'Tis not one no," he answered gloomily; "'tis two. The traveller riding to the east before you dealt me a similar blow may hell catch the little black devil." "Black!" cried I. "Forister, for my life!" "He took no moment to tell me his name," responded the sullen and wounded highwayman. "He beat me out of the saddle and rode away as brisk as a bird. I know not what my mother will say.
But my first hours on English soil contained still other festivities. Bright light streamed out from the great door, and I could plainly note what I shall call the arc or arcs described by Forister.
Perchance he is anxious to fight the gentleman who has just given Reginald Forister something he will not forget?" At this Flixton actually turned pale and drew back. Evidently he had not yet heard the news. And, mind you, I could see that he would fight me the next moment. He would come up and be killed like a gentleman.
But in the corridor were a number of travellers, and evidently one had come that day from Bristol, for he suddenly nudged another and hurriedly whispered: "'Tis him! The great Irish swordsman!" Then the news spread like the wind, apparently, that the man who had beaten the great Forister was arrived in good health at the inn. There were murmurs, and a great deal of attention, and many eyes.
'Twill not do to be confident. He is an evil man, but a great swordsman. Now I never liked Ponsonby, and Stewart was the most lovable of men; but in the great duel Ponsonby killed " "No," I interrupted, "damn the duel between Ponsonby and Stewart. I'm sick of it. This is to be the duel between The O'Ruddy and Forister, and it won't be like the other."
All this time I had been silent, because I had been deep in reflection upon Forister. Now I said: "Forister, you are a great rogue. I know you. One thing is certain. You have not my papers and never did you have them." He looked upon me with some admiration and cried: "Aye, the cannibal shows a glimmer of reason.
He might swing the ten arms of an Indian god; he might yell like a gale at sea; he might be more terrible in appearance than a volcano in its passions; still I would meet him. There was a knock, and at my bidding a servant approached and said: "A gentleman, Mr. Forister, wishes to see you, sir." For a moment I was privately in a panic.
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