Sir Geoffrey
Carleon, your requests are granted; be pleased to write it to the most
puissant Edward, whom you serve, and for this time fare you well.
Why, what is it, Captain Ambrosio?" he added irritably, addressing a
raw-boned, lantern-jawed giant of a man clad in the splendid uniform of
the Guard who stepped before his throne and saluted.
"Most Illustrious," said Ambrosio, in bad, guttural Italian, "my mother
was a Swiss."
"Then congratulations to the Swiss, Ambrosio, but what of it?"
"Very Illustrious," replied the captain in his hollow voice, "the Swiss
are brave and do not swallow insults. That lad whom the Englishman
kicked, or smote, or tossed like a bull," and he pointed to the poor
page, who, still senseless, was being carried from the hall, "is my
youngest brother, who resembles our Venetian father somewhat more than I
do."
"We see it, we see it. Indeed are you sure that the father was----" and
the Doge checked himself. "The point, captain; we would dine."
"Illustrious, I would avenge my brother and myself on the Englishman,
whom I will beat to a jelly," said the giant. "I crave leave to fight
him to-morrow when the lord Cattrina fights his master," and advancing
toward Grey Dick he made as though he would pull his nose.
"What is it he wants?" asked Grey Dick, staring up at the great fellow
with a look in his eyes that caused Ambrosio to cease flourishing his
fists.
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