Abellino kept his place, but unsheathed his sword. The three unknown (they were masked) stopped a few paces from him.
“How now, fellow!” quoth one of them; “what is the matter? Why stand you on your guard?”
Abellino.—It is as well that you should be made to keep your distance, for I know you; you are certain honest gentlemen, who live by taking away the lives of others.
The First Ruffian.—Was not your whistling addressed to us?
Abellino.—It was.
A Ruffian.—And what would you with us?
Abellino.—Hear me! I am a miserable wretch, and starving; give me an alms out of your booty!
A Ruffian.—An alms? Ha! ha! ha! By my soul that is whimsical!—Alms from us, indeed!—Oh, by all means! No doubt, you shall have alms in plenty.
Abellino.—Or else give me fifty sequins, and I’ll bind myself to your service till I shall have worked out my debt.
A Ruffian.—Aye? and pray, then, who may you be?