“It is down there, through the juniper thicket,” he said, pointing suddenly, with an air of shrewd confidence, “that one reaches the margin of the backwater where you first came upon her Excellency wading. Holy mother, what a state the old lady was in! It looked at first as if she would have liked to drink your blood, signore. And then all at once she changed.”
Tiretta took one step and nipped the elf by his ear.
“Ow—ow!” wailed Bissy; completely flabbergasted.
The chevalier looked formidable.
“Your tongue is too long, whelp. Stand still a moment while I clip it for you.”
“No, signore, don’t!”
“I think I have no choice.”
“For the love of the saints, signore. Ow—ow! I will tell you something. It is ill to hurt one who has tried to do you a service.”
“What service?”
“The ring, signore, that you threw away in a pet. I hunted for it, I did, when the water sank low in the creek; but I could not find it.”