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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Faith!" broke in Jacques, "those who want our swords must take them. We are free men." "Then your blood be on your own heads!" exclaimed the cavalier. "Forward, my lads. Capture or kill; 'tis all one." "Keep cool, monsieur," advised Jacques, "those two cut-throats are no sworders. They are far handier with a knife than a sword, and are unused to fighting in the sunlight."
Always a creature of abundant energy and sprightliness, she swept through the night, from the comedy behind to the tragedy in front; the grey starlight falling about her white dress and making her hair seem like a cloud behind her as she ran. Suddenly she came in on the two sworders with a scared, transfigured face.
We gather, indeed, from his record, that he was not an idle on-looker in the time of England's great struggle for freedom, but a soldier of the Parliament, in his young years, among the praying sworders and psalm-singing pikemen, the Greathearts and Holdfasts whom he has immortalized in his allegory; but the only allusion which he makes to this portion of his experience is by way of illustration of the goodness of God in preserving him on occasions of peril.
One can imagine nothing viler than those holes, full of smoke, cob-webs hanging on the black beams, those old sworders and young men drinking, shouting, and beating the tables like crazy people; and behind, in the shadow, old Annette Schnaps or Marie Héring her old wig stuck back on her head, her comb with only three teeth remaining, crosswise, in it gazing on the scene, or emptying a mug to the health of the braves.
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