Disdaining the threat, he waved his hand to the Dragoons to follow
and put his horse at a canter down the leafy lane.
It is recorded in the High History of the Grail, of Sir Lohot, son of
King Arthur, that he had a marvellous weakness; which was, that no
sooner had he slain a man than he fell across his body. So it
happened this night to the valiant men of Troy.
The Dragoons, emerging from the woods of Pentethy into close view of
the house and its terrace and slope that falls from the terrace to
the river, found themselves intruders upon the queerest of domestic
dramas.
On the terrace among the leaden gods danced a little man, wigless, in
an orange-coloured dressing-gown and a fury of choler. At the head
of the green slope immediately under the balustrade Major Hymen,
surrounded by a moderately sober staff, faced the storm in an
attitude at once dignified and patient.
"An idea has occurred to me," he put in at length with stately
deliberation as Sir Felix paused panting for fresh words of
opprobrium. "It is, sir, that overlooking the few minutes by which
our salvoes were--er--antedated, you allow us to acclaim your
latest-born as Honorary-Colonel of our corps."
"But," almost shrieked Sir Felix, "damn your eyes, it's _twins_--and
both _girls_!"
The Major winced. A rosy flush of indignation mantled his cheeks,
and only his habitual respect for the landed gentry (whom he was
accustomed to call the backbone of England) checked him on the verge
of a severe retort.
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