I tried to jump, but he increased the speed. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. "I'm armed; you are not. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. The above description of —the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains— may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. See paragraph 1.
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