Adventure stories; British -- Spain -- Fiction; Swordsmen -- Fiction
“Is that so, good Don, is that really the case?” The Englishman averted
his countenance. “Then if you are the offshoot of such an illustrious
trunk, you must be nearly as full of high breeding as an elderly
bonaroba is full of dignity. Good Master Don What-do-you-call-yourself,
I pray you do not make me laugh; the best surgeons in the county of
Middlesex have warned me against flux of the brain and the spitting of
blood. All the most accomplished minds of a pretty good house have died
in that way.”
“Sir Englishman,” said I, “I grieve for this demeanour which you
display; but the last of our name must follow the practice of his
fathers. Your language is unseemly; it is to be regretted; the
misprisions you have urged against my country cannot go unmarked.”
“Oh, my young companion,” said he, striving to be grave, yet failing to
appear so, “I am persuaded I shall die a horribly incontinent death.”
With might and main he strove to behave more worthily. By taking
infinite pains he was able at last to compose his coarse red features,
bloated with the cup and stained by the sun, into an appearance of
respectfulness; but the moment I bespoke him down went his chin, his
enormous frame began to quiver, and forth came another roar that echoed
along the rafters like the discharge of an arquebuse.
Such conduct put me out of countenance completely. Although my
experience of the world was not such as to teach me how to meet it
becomingly, I was determined that it should not go free. I had a
passion to run him through the body, but this could not be done while
he continued to pay no regard to my sword. Yet, as he was impervious to
those methods of courtesy that were the pride of my race, I determined
to adopt a mode more extreme. I was about to deal him a blow in the
face with my hand, to bring him to a sense of his peril, when, like
a wise fellow, the innkeeper made a diversion. And this for the time
being changed the current of affairs.
He fished a ham from the cooking-pot, and laid it on a dish. No sooner
did the Englishman discover this meat to be set against his elbow than
out he whipped his dagger and fell upon it, being no more able to
contain his inclination than are the beasts that perish. Perforce, I
had to put up my sword and abide in patience until this barbarian had
quelled his appetite. But I had not reckoned well if I thought he would
do this easily. Never have I seen a man eat so rapidly, so grossly,
so extensively as this gigantical foreigner. At last came a pause in
this employ, whereupon he regarded me with the grease shining about his
chaps.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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