He scratched his ear, reflecting no doubt upon the drift of my announcement. “Yes?” he said dubiously. “And to what market are you taking it?” “I am offering it to you,” said I. “To me?” he cried, and instantly suspicion entered his crafty eye and darkened his brow. “Where got you the mule?” he asked, and snapped his lips together. The girl entering at that moment stood at gaze, listening. “Where did I get it?” I echoed. “What is that to you?” He smiled unpleasantly. “It is this to me: that if the bargelli were to come up here and discover a stolen mule in my stables, it would be an ill thing for me.” I flushed angrily. “Do you imply that I stole the mule?” said I, so fiercely that he changed his air. “Nay now, nay now,” he soothed me. “And, after all, it happens that I do not want a mule. I have one mule already, and I am a poor man, and...” “A fig for your whines,” said I. “Here is the case. I have no money--not a grosso. So the mule must pay for my dinner. Name your price, and let us have done.” “Ha!” he fumed at me. “I am to buy your stolen beast, am I? I am to be frightened by your violence into buying it? Be off, you rogue, or I'll raise the village and make short work of you. Be off, I say!” He backed away as he spoke, towards the fireplace, and from the corner took a stout oaken staff. He was a villain, a thieving rogue. That much was plain. And it was no less plain that I must submit, and leave my beast to him, or else perhaps suffer a worse alternative. Had those four honest peasants still been there, he would not have dared to have so borne himself. But as it was, without witnesses to say how the thing had truly happened, if he raised the village against me how should they believe a man who confessed that he had eaten a dinner for which he could not pay? It must go very ill with me. If I tried conclusions with him, I could break him in two notwithstanding his staff. But there would remain the girl to give the alarm, and when to dishonesty I should have added violence, my case would be that of any common bandit. “Very well,” I said. “You are a dirty, thieving rascal, and a vile one to take advantage of one in my position. I shall return for the mule another day. Meanwhile consider it in pledge for what I owe you. But see that you are ready for the reckoning when I present it.” With that, I swung on my heel, strode past the big-eyed girl, out of that foul kennel into God's sweet air, followed by the ordures of speech which that knave flung after me. I turned up the street, setting my face towards the mountains, and trudged amain.