per persevered, his victim grew pale and
trembled with suppressed rage. The man perceived the effect his cruel
mockery produced, and continued to revile and take to pieces the
mis-shapen portions of his body with most merciless anatomy. Robin
offered, in return, neither observation nor reproach;--at first
trembling and change of colour were the only indications of his
feelings--then he moved restlessly on his seat, and his bright and
deeply sunken eyes gleamed with untamable malignity; but, as Roupall
followed one jeer more brutal than the rest, with a still more
boisterous laugh, and, in the very rapture of his success, threw himself
back in his chair, the tiger spirit of Robin burst forth to its full
extent: he sprang upon the trooper so suddenly, that the Goliath was
perfectly conquered, and lay upon the floor helpless as an overgrown and
overfed Newfoundland dog, upon whose throat a sharp and bitter terrier
has fastened. At length, after much exertion, he succeeded in standing
erect against the wall of the apartment, though still unable to
disengage Robin's long arms and bony fingers from his throat, where he
hung like a mill-stone: it was some minutes ere the gigantic man had
power to throw from him the attenuated being whom, on ordinary
occasions, he could have lifted between his finger and thumb.

Robin gathered himself up on the spot to which Roupall had flung him;
his chin resting on his knees, round which his arms were clasped; his
narrow chest and shoulders heaving with the exertion of the conflict;
his eyes wild and glittering, yet fixed upon his adversary, like those
of some fierce animal eager to dart upon its prey. The trooper shook
himself, and passed his hand once or twice over his throat, as if to
ascertain whether or not he were really strangled; then returning
Robin's gaze as steadily, though with a far different expression, he
said,--

"Upon my soul, you are as strong a hand at a grapple as I would care to
meet; nor would I believe, did I not know it, that Roupall the Rover,
who has borne more blows upon his thick head than there are days in
February, and rises six feet two without boots, could be half choked by
little Robin the Ranger, who stands forty inches in his shoes;--but I
beg pardon for offending a man of your mettle. I warrant you safe from
any future jests of mine; I like not quarrelling with old friends--when
there is nothing to be got by it. Tut, man! leave off your moping, and
shake