At length, however, by dealing blows right and left with their swords, and even inflicting severe cuts on the foremost of the rabble, the soldiers managed to gain a clear course, and to drive back the assailants; who, as they retreated behind the barricades, shouted in tones of defiance, "To Tyburn! to Tyburn!" The object of all this tumult, meanwhile, never altered his position, but sat back in the cart, as if resolved not to make even a struggle to regain his liberty. “How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest.
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