We arrived there; the Ras was not sitting in judgment, he had drank hard the night before, on occasion of Powussen’s marriage, and was not in bed when the story of the fray reached him. We found Ozoro Esther in a violent anger and agitation, which was much alleviated by my laughing. On her asking me about my wound, which had been represented to her as dangerous, “I am afraid, said I, poor Guebra Mascal is worse wounded than I.” “Is he wounded too? says she; I hope it is in his heart.” “Indeed, replied I, Madam, there are no wounds on either side. He was very drunk, and I gave him several blows upon the face as he deserved, and he has already got all the chastisement he ought to have; it was all a piece of folly.” “Prodigious! says she; is this so?” “It is so, says Aylo, and you shall hear it all by-and-by, only let us stop the propagation of this foolish story.” The Ras in the instant sent for us. He was naked, sitting on a stool, and a slave swathing up his lame leg with a broad belt or bandage. I asked him calmly and pleasantly if I could be of any service to him? He looked at me with a grin, the most ghastly I ever saw, as half displeased. “What! says he, are you all mad? Aylo, what is the matter between him and that miscreant Guebra Mascal?”--“Why, said I, I am come to tell you that myself; why do you ask Ayto Aylo? Guebra Mascal got drunk, was insolent, and struck me. I was sober, and beat him, as you will see by his face; and I have now come to you to say I am sorry that I lifted my hand against your nephew; but he was in the wrong, and drunk; and I thought it was better to chastise him on the spot, than trust him to you, who perhaps might take the affair to heart, for we all know your justice, and that being your relation is no excuse when you judge between man and man.” “I order you, Aylo, says Michael, as you esteem my friendship, to tell me the truth, really as it was, and without disguise or concealment.” Aylo began accordingly to relate the whole history, when a servant called me out to Ozoro Esther. I found with her another nephew of the Ras, a much better man, called Welleta Selassé, who came from Kefla Yasous, and Guebra Mascal himself, desiring I would forgive and intercede for him, for it was a drunken quarrel without malice. Ozoro Esther had told him part. “Come in with me, said I, and you shall see I never will leave the Ras till he forgive him.” “Let him punish him, says Welleta Selassé, he is a bad man, but don’t let the Ras either kill or maim him.” “Come, said I, let us go to the Ras, and he shall neither kill, maim, nor punish him, if I can help it. It is my first request; if he refuses me I will return to Jidda; come and hear.”