A vast hulk of a man, standing at the door of the porter’s lodge, laughed out like a jovial bassoon:—
‘There’s a rare wit for you, Master,’ said he.
He was enormous, like a tree—a great lusty fellow in a buff jerkin and hip-high boots, with a falling band about his throat. Each of his ruddy cheeks might have sufficed a moderate man for his whole countenance; and his fist would have served a giant for his Sunday joint. Clerivault flicked him under the chin with his glove.
‘Speak when you’re spoken to, little Nol,’ said he; ‘and then to better effect than to point out the obvious. Lout, man, lout to your betters, nor stand there beaming like the sun in a red hazel bush.’
The huge creature ducked to Brion, who responded by holding out his hand.
‘Is this Nol porter?’ he said, with a smile. ‘On my troth, a fit attendant on a Judge of Assize!’
The giant, grasping the slim hand abashed, gaped doubtful a moment, then went into a second boom of laughter. Here was another quip patent to his perceptives. It was to be his rare fortune, it seemed, to serve under a second wit, matching Clerivault’s own.
That gentleman interposed, a little starchily. He was jealous for the boy’s sole attention.
‘A Judge,’ said he, ‘is not needed in a matter beyond dispute. This creature’s hugeness hits the eye like a battering-ram. He hath evidenced, and may be dismissed. Hence, porter—ha! and ruminate, like a vast ox, on the condescension shown thee.’
He led Brion away, while the other backed, bobbing and grinning, into the lodge. ‘Now,’ said he, stopping once more to look admiringly in the boy’s face, ‘let me gaze on thee my fill. Art grown, I swear, and to an aspect something graver than thy wont. Hast taken sadness in this interval to be thy housemate?’