"That's better," said Steinfeldt. "Fill them again, can't you?" His eyes began to sparkle, and his face to flush. It was easy to tell his master passion. But Mother Melrose filled the glasses again, and then a third time, producing a second bottle. The house was better stocked than I had thought it could possibly be. Steinfeldt's temper began to improve under the influence of the liquor, and he grew talkative. Evidently Mother Melrose's taunt about the British evacuation of Philadelphia rankled in his mind, though the two Englishmen themselves had passed it off easily enough.
"We will come back," he said. "You don't imagine that we will let Mr. Washington keep Philadelphia long?"
"I don't think he will ask you about it," replied Mother Melrose.
"It's too good a country to give up," continued Steinfeldt, "and we must keep it. It is rich land, and the women are fair. The men may not want us; but the women do."
One of the Englishmen angrily bade him be silent; but the wine was in his blood.
"But the women do want us, don't they?" he repeated to Mother Melrose.
She lifted her hand, which was both large and muscular, and slapped him in the face. It was no light blow, the crack of it was like that of a pistol-shot, and Steinfeldt reeled in his chair, the blood leaping to his cheeks.
"Damnation!" he cried, springing to his feet, and snatching his sword from its scabbard.
"Steinfeldt, stop!" cried Osborne, "you cannot cut down a woman."
"I wish you were a man," said the Hessian to Mother Melrose, "then you'd have to fight for that."
"Don't trouble yourself about my not being a man," said she, coolly. "I'll fight you any way."
One of the Englishmen had hung his sword and belt on the back of his chair while he ate, and, to my unbounded surprise, Mother Melrose stepped forward, took the sword, and putting herself in the attitude of a genuine fencing-master, faced the German. I was about to make a movement, but Wildfoot put a restraining hand on my shoulder. His other hand was on Marcel's shoulder.
"Madame, what do you mean?" asked Osborne.
"The gentleman seems to be angry, and I am the cause of his anger, so I offer him satisfaction," she replied. "He need not hesitate. I am probably a much better swordsman than he."