"Most vile knave," shouted Rodriguez as he saw Morano before him with his frying-pan in his hand, and with something of the stupid expression that you see on the face of a dog that has done some foolish thing which it thinks will delight its master. "Master! I am your servant," said Morano. "Vile, miserable knave," replied Rodriguez. "Master," Morano said plaintively, "shall I see to your comforts, your food, and not to your life?" "Silence," thundered Rodriguez as he stooped anxiously to his antagonist, who was not unconscious but only very giddy and who now rose to his feet with the help of Rodriguez. "Alas, senor," said Rodriguez, "the foul knave is my servant. He shall be flogged. He shall be flayed. His vile flesh shall be cut off him. Does the hurt pain you, senor? Sit and rest while I beat the knave, and then we will continue our meeting." And he ran to his kerchief on which rested his mandolin and laid it upon the dust for the stranger. "No, no," said he. "My head clears again. It is nothing." "But rest, senor, rest," said Rodriguez. "It is always well to rest before an encounter. Rest while I punish the knave." And he led him to where the kerchief lay on the ground. "Let me see the hurt, senor," he continued. And the stranger removed his plumed hat as Rodriguez compelled him to sit down. He straightened out the hat as he sat, and the hurt was shown to be of no great consequence. "The blessed Saints be praised," Rodriguez said. "It need not stop our encounter. But rest awhile, senor." "Indeed, it is nothing," he answered. "But the indignity is immeasurable," sighed Rodriguez. "Would you care, senor, when you are well rested to give the chastisement yourself?" "As far as that goes," said the stranger, "I can chastise him now." "If you are fully recovered, senor," Rodriguez said, "my own sword is at your disposal to beat him sore with the flat of it, or how you will. Thus no dishonour shall touch your sword from the skin of so vile a knave." The stranger smiled: the idea appealed to him. "You make a noble amend, senor," he said as he bowed over Rodriguez' proffered sword. Morano had not moved far, but stood near, wondering. "What should a servant do if not work for his master?" he wondered. And how work for him when dead? And dead, as it seemed to Morano, through his own fault if he allowed any man to kill him when he perceived him about to do so. He stood there puzzled. And suddenly he saw the stranger coming angrily towards him in the clear moonlight with a sword. Morano was frightened.