"Seigneur, I shall run to the kennel and bring the mastiffs Mirff and Morff."
When he heard the count's proposition, which was received with universal acclaim by the leudes, the lover of the bishopess, who, faithful to his role, was riding lustily on his cane around the table suddenly interrupted his antics and was on the point of expressing with some compromising gesture his refusal to serve as quarry for the fangs of Mirff and Morff. Fortunately by means of a gentle tug given at the chain, Karadeucq recalled the Vagre to prudence and the latter continued his gambols with the most indifferent air in the world; but his conductor, without letting the chain slip from his hands, threw himself at the feet of Neroweg and said:
"Seigneur count, illustrious seigneur!"
"What would you of me, old mountebank?"
"My bear is my bread winner—you will have him killed."
"And I, do not I also run the risk of seeing the best two dogs of my pack hugged to death—or torn to pieces by your bear's claws? You said yourself, your animal was ferocious."
"Seigneur, you do not earn your living with your dogs; but my bear is my bread winner."
"Dare you resist my will?"
"Oh, great Prince," said Karadeucq on his knees, but turning towards Chram: "A poor old man addresses him to your glory; one word from you to this illustrious seigneur, who respects you as the son of his King, and he will renounce his project. I swear to you by my salvation, the other tricks of my bear which I have not exhibited will amuse a hundredfold more than the bloody combat that will deprive me of my bread winner."
"Come, rise old mountebank, I shall not hinder you in the making of your living."