It was never my fortune to behold a sight more whimsical than that of this monstrous fellow seated with the blood still trickling down to his chin, while this little black-eyed wench, not much bigger than his fist, with her skin the colour of a walnut, her hair hanging loose, and her rough clothes stained and in tatters, dealt out her kisses first to one side of his ugly mouth and then to the other, yet making as she did so lively gestures of disgust. “Courteously, courteously!” cried the giant. “Let us have no unmannerly haste in this operation, or I will have them all over again.” “Nay, you shall not; I will take heed of that. That is fifteen. Another ten, you foreign villain, would give me a canker in my front teeth.” “Nay, that is but fourteen, my pretty mouse. Here we have the fifteenth. Courteously, courteously, do I not tell thee. See to it that it is so long drawn out that I may count nine.” “There’s twenty, you large villain!” cried the little creature in huge disgust, and slipping off his knee as quickly as a lizard. “Aye, but where’s the lucky one, the one right i’ th’ middle, that I was to have for good fellowship?” “It was not in the terms, and I will not give it thee.” “Not in the terms, pretty titmouse! By my hand I will not be cozened in this manner.” The little creature scuttled away like a rat, but the giant had his hands on her before she could get to the door. “Now for the lucky one, thou sweet hellicat, the one right i’ th’ middle,” cried he, swinging her up to him as though she had been a squirrel. “Unhand me, foreign dog!” she cried, with a snort of defiance, “else I will bite thee in the cheek.” “Do thou, sweet adder, for I love thee.” “There, you large villain!” She darted her strong teeth, flashing with whiteness, at him, and he dropped her with an oath, as though she had been a snake. She made off out of doors as nimbly as a cat, leaving the astonished giant to staunch yet another wound she had dealt him. “By my soul”--he pressed his hands to his ribs and his face grew empurpled with his roars--“I have the greatest mind in the world to marry that pretty doxey.” CHAPTER VII OF THE DISABILITIES THAT ATTEND ON GENTLE BIRTH “SIR RICHARD PENDRAGON,” said I, when at last the immoderation of his mirth would permit me to address him, “I make you my service. I owe it to your clemency that I retain my life.” “My young companion,” said he, “I pray you not to mention so small an affair. I did but require a little exercise for mine arm. I had no mind whatever to slay you.” “I am afraid, Sir Richard,” I confessed, “that in my heat I would have slain you readily had it but lain in my power.”