"Master! I am your servant," said Morano.
"Vile, miserable knave," replied Rodriguez.
"Master," Morano said plaintively, "shall I see to your comforts,
your food, and not to your life?"
"Silence," thundered Rodriguez as he stooped anxiously to his
antagonist, who was not unconscious but only very giddy and who
now rose to his feet with the help of Rodriguez.
"Alas, senor," said Rodriguez, "the foul knave is my servant. He
shall be flogged. He shall be flayed. His vile flesh shall be cut
off him. Does the hurt pain you, senor? Sit and rest while I beat
the knave, and then we will continue our meeting."
And he ran to his kerchief on which rested his mandolin and laid
it upon the dust for the stranger.
"No, no," said he. "My head clears again. It is nothing."
"But rest, senor, rest," said Rodriguez. "It is always well to
rest before an encounter. Rest while I punish the knave."
And he led him to where the kerchief lay on the ground. "Let me
see the hurt, senor," he continued. And the stranger removed his
plumed hat as Rodriguez compelled him to sit down. He straightened
out the hat as he sat, and the hurt was shown to be of no great
consequence.
"The blessed Saints be praised," Rodriguez said. "It need not stop
our encounter. But rest awhile, senor."
"Indeed, it is nothing," he answered.
"But the indignity is immeasurable," sighed Rodriguez. "Would you
care, senor, when you are well rested to give the chastisement
yourself?"
"As far as that goes," said the stranger, "I can chastise him
now.
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