"A great record, if you will, to commend me to hireling
service. But you may not call the service of a hireling noble."
"It is a matter we will not quarrel over," said Gonzaga soothingly. The
man's ferocity was terrific.
"Who says that we shall not?" he demanded. "Who will baulk me if I have
a mind to quarrel over it? Answer me!" and he half rose from his seat,
moved by the anger into which he was lashing himself. "But patience!" he
broke off, subsiding on a sudden. "I take it, it was not out of regard
for my fine eyes, nor drawn by the elegance of my apparel"--and he raised
a corner of his tattered cloak--"nor yet because you wish to throw a
main with me, that you have sought my acquaintance, and called for this
wine. You require service of me?"
"You have guessed it."
"A prodigious discernment, by the Host!" He seemed to incline rather
tediously to irony. Then his face grew stern, and he lowered his voice
until it was no more than a growling whisper. "Heed me, Messer Gonzaga.
If the service you require be the slitting of a gullet or some kindred
foul business, which my seeming neediness leads you to suppose me ripe
for, let me counsel you, as you value your own skin, to leave the service
unmentioned, and get you gone."
In hasty, frantic, fearful protest were Gonzaga's hands outspread.
"Sir, sir--I--I could not have thought it of you," he spluttered, with
warmth, much of which was genuine, for it rejoiced him to see some
scruples still shining in the foul heap of this man's rascally existence.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108