Martial, much surprised, looked fixedly at his brother. Then, as if reflecting on the folly of a quarrel, he shrugged his shoulders, cut a piece of bread with his knife, and helped himself to a slice of meat. The terrier had drawn nearer to Nicholas, although still at a very respectful distance; the bandit, irritated at the contemptuous indifference of his brother, and hoping to make him lose his patience by striking the dog, gave Miraut a furious kick, which made him howl piteously. Martial became purple, pressed in his contracted hands the knife which he held, and struck violently on the table; but, still containing himself, he called his dog, and said gently, "Here, Miraut." The terrier came and laid down at his master's feet. This moderation defeated the projects of Nicholas, who wished to push his brother to extremities to bring about a rupture. So he added, "I don't like dogs--I won't have your dog here." For answer, Martial poured out a glass of wine, and drank it slowly. Exchanging a rapid glance with Nicholas, the widow encouraged him by a sign to continue his hostilities, hoping that a violent quarrel would bring about a rupture and a complete separation. Nicholas went and took the willow switch which stood in the corner, and, approaching the terrier, struck him, crying, "Get out of this, Miraut!" Up to this time, Nicholas had often shown his animosity toward Martial, but never before had he dared to provoke him with so much audacity and perseverance. At the yelp from his dog, Martial rose, opened the door, put the terrier outside, and returned to continue his supper. This incredible patience, little in harmony with the ordinary character of Martial, confounded his aggressors. They looked at each other, very much surprised. He, appearing completely a stranger to what was passing, ate heartily, and kept profound silence. "Calabash, take away the wine," said the widow to her daughter. She hastened to obey, when Martial said, "Stop! I have not finished my supper." "So much the worse!" said the widow, taking away the bottle. "Ah! as you like," answered he, and pouring out a large glass of water, he drank it, and smacking his lips, cried, "That's famous water!" This imperturbable coolness still more irritated Nicholas, already much excited by his frequent libations; nevertheless, he recoiled before a direct attack, knowing the superior strength of his brother; suddenly he cried: "You have done well to knock under, with your dog, Martial; it is a good habit to get into; for you must expect to see La Louve kicked out, just as we have kicked out your dog." "Oh, yes--for if she has the misfortune to come to the island when she comes out of prison," said Calabash, comprehending the intention of Nicholas, "I will box her soundly." "And I'll give her a ducking in the mud, near the hovel at the other end of the island," added Nicholas; "and if she comes up again, I'll put her under again with a kick--the hussy."