‘Our service is equal,’ said the Goshawk, flourishing, ‘Only we happen to be beforehand with the Club, for which Farina and myself heartily beg pardon of the entire brotherhood.’
‘Farina!’ exclaimed Dietrich. ‘Then we make a prisoner instead of uncaging a captive.’
‘What ‘s this?’ said Guy.
‘So much,’ responded Dietrich. ‘Yonder’s a runaway from two masters: the law of Cologne, and the conqueror of Satan; and all good citizens are empowered to bring him back, dead or alive.’
‘Dietrich! Dietrich! dare you talk thus of the man who saved me?’ cried Margarita.
Dietrich sullenly persisted.
‘Then, look!’ said the White Rose, reddening under the pale dawn; ‘he shall not, he shall not go with you.’
One of the Club was here on the point of speaking to the White Rose,—a breach of the captain’s privilege. Dietrich felled him unresisting to earth, and resumed:
‘It must be done, Beauty of Cologne! the monk, Father Gregory, is now enduring shame and scorn for lack of this truant witness.’
‘Enough! I go!’ said Farina.