"Just a tit-bit, my love?" he added persuasively. "A
mouthful of white liver and caper sauce?"
"Not for me, the beast!" the girl cried, amid the laughter of
the yard.
"Not a bit? If I warrant him tender? Ladies' meat?"
"Bah! no!" and she stolidly spat down again.
"Do you hear? The lady has no taste for you," the tormentor
cried. "Pig of a Gascon!" And deftly sheathing his dagger, he
seized the big coward by the ear, and turning him round, gave him
a heavy kick which sent him spinning over a bucket, and down
against the wall. There the bully remained, swearing and rubbing
himself by turns; while the victor cried boastfully, "Enough of
him. If anyone wants to take up his quarrel, Blaise Bure is his
man. If not, let us have an end of it. Let someone find stalls
for the gentlemen's horses before they catch a chill; and have
done with it. As for me," he added, and then he turned to us and
removed his hat with an exaggerated flourish, "I am your
lordship's servant to command."
I thanked him with a heartiness, half-earnest, half-assumed.
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