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Martin Conisby's Vengeance by Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952



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"Truly," said I, turning away, "I think your breeches do become you best--"

"Liar!" she cried. "You know I am handsomer thus! Your eyes ha' told me so already. And look ye, I can be as soft and tender, as meek and helpless as any puling woman of 'em all, when I will. And if I hate fiercely, so is my love--ha, d'ye blench, fool, d'ye shrink; you thing shaped like a man, must ye cringe at the word 'love'?"

"Aye!" said I, over my shoulder. "On your lips 'tis desecration!"

"Desecration--desecration?" quoth she, staring on me great-eyed and biting at her scarlet nether lip. "Ha, dare ye say it, dog?" And crying thus, she hurled the pistol at me with aim so true that I staggered and came nigh falling. Stung by the blow I turned on her in a fury, but she leapt to her feet and showed me my own knife glittering in her fist.

"Ah, bah--back to your labour, slave!" she mocked.

"Have done, woman!" I cried. "Have done, or by the living God, you will goad me into slaying you yet--"

"Tush!" said she, "I am used to outfacing men, but you--ha, you should be fed on pap and suckets, you that are no man! 'Tis small wonder you lost your Joan--Damaris; 'tis no wonder she fled away and left you--"

Now at this (and nothing heeding her knife) I sprang at her and she, letting fall the knife, leapt towards me; and then I had her, felt her all soft and palpitant in my furious grip, heard a quivering sigh, saw her head sway back across my arm and she drooping in my embrace, helpless and a-swoon. And holding her thus 'prisoned and crushed against me, I could not but be conscious of all the tender, languorous beauty of her ere I hasted to lay her upon the sand. My arms were yet about her (and I upon my knees) when her bosom heaved to sudden, tremulous sigh and opening her eyes, she smiled up at me.

"Ah, Martino," sighed she softly, "do not these petticoats become me vastly well, yes?" And reaching up, she set her arms about me. "Am I not better than dream-woman, I that men have died for--I, Joanna?"

Now hereupon I shivered and loosing her hold rose to my feet and stood with head averted that I might not behold her. Presently she arose also and coming where lay the knife, took it up and stood turning it this way and that.

"Martin," said she in her soft, dreamy speech, "you are mightily strong and--mightily gentle, and I do think we shall make a man of you yet!"

So saying, she turned and went away, the knife glittering in her hand. As for me I cast myself down and with no thought or will to labour now, for it seemed that my strength was gone from me.

CHAPTER V

TELLETH HOW ALL MY TRAVAIL CAME TO NOUGHT

That night, the moon being at the full and I very wakeful, I lay harassed of a thousand fretting thoughts, and each and every of this woman Joanna; and turning on my sleepless couch I cursed that hour the which had set her in my company.