"I vow by Judas Iscariot!" exclaimed Fernan, seizing his lance, fire flashing from his eyes. "What is that you dare to say, you villain, you traitor? Does your scorpion tongue dare to calumniate your mistress, the most honoured lady, not alone of Spain, but of the entire world? For this ingratitude to those who supply you with the bread you eat, you shall die, traitor that you are!"
Saying this, he made a thrust of his lance at Alvar, forcible enough to pierce a wall; but his anger blinded the squire, and caused him to miss his aim; to this also contributed a rapid movement of the page, who threw himself back on his saddle-bow just as Fernan was giving the thrust.
All those who saw what had occurred hastened to pacify the enraged squire, some with words and others by seizing his arms from behind.
"Let me go, let me go!" cried Fernan, struggling to get free, so that he might attack Alvar again, who hardly had breath to excuse himself. At last they quieted him down a little, and he said in threatening accents to the page—
"Speak, you rascally traitor, and retract the calumnies that you have dared to utter against the most honoured of women. If you don't do so at once, I'll spit you on my lance like a sucking pig."
"Calm your anger, Fernan," murmured the page at last "It was not in my mind to stain the characters of my lord and lady, but to praise the compassionate and kind heart of Don Rodrigo."
"Confound you for a stupid chatterer: have I not told you a hundred times that your roundabout way of stating the most simple facts would certainly get you into trouble some day or other?" said Fernan, understanding at last what the page had intended to convey in his would-be witty style. "Speak out, you fool, and tell us what son it is that our master has."
"The little Moor that he picked up after the battle, when you left us to run after the four big Moors to the ditch into which your horse fell. That is what I was going to speak about, and I was only having a little joke with you, in order to excite your curiosity."
"I swear to you, Alvar," said Fernan, brandishing his lance, "that such jokes may cost you dear, if you persist in them. A respectable page or squire can be pleasant without defaming the honour of anyone, and least of all that of ladies, for even the purest cannot escape calumny."
"And I swear to you," replied Alvar, "that from this day forward I will cut out my tongue rather than say, even in jest, a word against either my mistress or master. My discretion with regard to speaking about people will increase, but my affection for those we both serve can never be greater than it is. But, returning to the little Moor, whom my master has adopted, what has become of him, that we do not see him?"