"
Though shorter by half a head, and altogether cast in a less colossal
mould, as he stood there, with his square, well-knit frame, and bold
Saxon face, he looked no contemptible antagonist to confront the swarthy
giant. In utter insensibility to fear and carelessness of consequences
(so far as they could affect a steady resolve), the Cool Captain had met
his match at last. Even then, in the crisis of his stormy passion, he
was able to appreciate a hardihood so congenial to his own character;
pondering upon these things afterward, he always confessed that at this
juncture, and indeed all throughout, his opponent had very much the best
of it. Ferocity and violence seemed puerile and out of place when
contrasted with that tranquil audacity. He covered his eyes with his
hand for a moment or so, and when he raised his face it had recovered
its natural impassibility, though the ghastly pallor still remained.
Besides, the truth of Waring's last words struck him forcibly. He
muttered under his breath, "By G--d, he's right _there_, at all events;"
then he said aloud, "Well, it appears you won't fight, so there is
little more to be said between us.
Pages:
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314