The little woman bowed melancholy obedience.
‘Why did you fling and run?’ whispered Guy to Berthold.
‘Because you were two against one.’
‘Two against one, man! Why, have you no such thing as fair play in this land of yours? Did you think I should have taken advantage of that?’
‘How could I tell who you were, or what you would do?’ muttered Berthold, somewhat sullenly.
‘Truly no, friend! So you ran to make yourself twenty to two? But don’t be down on the subject. I was going to say, that though I treated you in a manner upright, ‘twas perhaps a trifle severe, considering your youth: but an example’s everything; and I must let you know in confidence, that no rascal truncheon had I flung in my life before; so, you see, I gave you all the chances.’
Berthold moved his lips in reply; but thinking of the figure of defeat he was exhibiting before Margarita, caused him to estimate unfavourably what chances had stood in his favour.
The health was drunk. Aunt Lisbeth touched the smoky yellow glass with a mincing lip, and beckoned Margarita to withdraw.
‘The tapestry, child!’ she said. ‘Dangerous things are uttered after the third glass, I know, Margarita.’
‘Do you call my champion handsome, aunt?’