"Fool!" he said in a sharp voice. "Your argument is as scurvy as your Latin. Thou, a philosopher! A bookless, shallow dabbler! So I treat you and your reasonings!"
Whereupon, with a quick gesture, he threw the dregs of his glass in the face of the jester. So suddenly and unexpectedly was it done, the other sprang angrily from his seat and half drew his sword. A moment they stood thus, the fool with his hand menacingly upon the hilt; the scamp-scholar continuing to confront him with undiminished volubility.
He threw the dregs of his glass in the face of the jester.
"A smatterer! an ignoramus! a dunce!" he repeated in high-pitched tones to the amusement of the company.
"Make a ring for the two monks, my masters," cried the man with the boar. "Then let each state his case with bludgeon or dagger."
"With bludgeon or dagger!" echoed the excited voice of the morio, whose appearance had undergone a transformation. The indescribable vacancy with which he had listened to the minstrel was replaced by an expression of revolting malignity.
The jestress half-arose, her face once more white, her dark eyes fastened on the fool. But the latter, realizing the purpose of the affront, and the actual service the scamp-student had rendered him, unexpectedly thrust back his blade.
"I'll not fight a puny bookworm," he said, and resumed his seat, although his cheek was flushed.