"
The cheerfulness faded out of Morano's face as light fades at
sunset. "Master," he said, "he will surely slay me now."
"He will not slay you," said Rodriguez.
"Master," Morano said, "he hopes for my fat carcase as much as men
hope for the unicorn, when they wear their bright green coats and
hunt him with dogs in Spring." I know not what legend Morano
stored in his mind, nor how much of it was true. "And when he
finds me without my frying-pan he will surely slay me."
"That senor," said Rodriguez emphatically, "must not be hit with
the frying-pan."
"That is a hard rule, master," said Morano.
And Rodriguez was indignant, when he heard that, that anyone
should thus blaspheme against an obvious law of chivalry: while
Morano's only thought was upon the injustice of giving up the
sweets of life for the sake of a frying-pan. Thus they were at
cross-purposes. And for some while they stood silent, while
Rodriguez hung the reins of his horse over the broken branch of a
tree. And then Don Alderon rode into the wood.
All then that was most pathetic in Morano's sense of injustice
looked out of his eyes as he turned them upon his master. But Don
Alderon scarcely glanced at all at Morano, even when he handed to
him the reins of his horse as he walked on towards Rodriguez.
And there in that leafy place they rested all through the evening,
for they had not started so early upon their journey as travellers
should.
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