" What a man does who has very
little brains, who risks his carcass when there is no occasion for it.
"But do you know what is my motive? Lucile is angry." Well, so much the
worse for her. "But my love prompts me to go and appease her." But love
is a fool, and does not know what he says: will this same love defend us
against an enraged rival, father, or brother? "Do you think any of them
intend to harm us?" Yes, really, I do think so; and especially this
rival. "Mascarille, in any case, what I trust to is, that we shall go
well armed, and if anybody interrupts us we shall draw." Yes, but that
is precisely what your servant does not wish to do. I draw! Good
Heavens! am I a Roland, master, or a Ferragus?
[Footnote: Roland, or Orlando in Italian, one of Charlemagne's paladins
and nephew is represented as brave, loyal, and simple-minded. On the
return of Charlemagne from Spain, Roland, who commanded the rearguard,
fell into an ambuscade at Roncezvalles, in the Pyrenees (778), and
perished, with the flower of French chivalry. He is the hero of
Ariosto's poem, "Orlando Furioso." In this same poem Cant. xii. is also
mentioned Ferragus, or Ferrau in Italian, a Saracen giant, who dropped
his helmet into the river, and vowed he would never wear another till he
had won that worn by Orlando; the latter slew him in the only part where
he was vulnerable.
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