"'Tis seed time--let us measure out the seed.

On guard!" Never were two men such opposites, never two so seemingly ill-matched.
Leicester's dark face and its sardonic look, his lithe figure, the nervous strength of his bearing, were in strong contrast to the bulking breadth, the perspiring robustness of Lempriere of Rozel.

It was not easy of belief that Lempriere should be set to fight this toreador of a fighting Court.

But there they stood, Lempriere's face with a great-eyed gravity looming above his rotund figure like a moon above a purple cloud.

But huge and loose though the Seigneur's motions seemed, he was as intent as though there were but two beings in the universe, Leicester and himself.