Staupitz saluted Lagardere very respectfully as he answered: "At Lyons."
Lagardere seemed to search his memory and to find what he sought. "True. You touched me once."
Staupitz made an apologetic gesture. "Only once in twelve times."
Lagardere turned to Saldagno, Pepe, and Pinto. "Ah, my bandits of Madrid, who tried me, three to one."
Saldagno was more apologetic than Staupitz, with a Latin profusion of gesture, as he explained: "That was for a wager, captain."
Lagardere shrugged his shoulders. "Which you did not win." He turned to Joel de Jurgan. "Does your head still carry my cut?"
The Breton lifted a large hand to his bullet head and fumbled through the thick hair for a familiar spot. "There is a scar," he admitted.
Lagardere turned to the Italian. "Do you still," he asked, "hold the Italian school to be superior to the French?"
Faenza shook his head. "Not when you practise the French method," he answered, politely.
There was a little pause, and then Æsop, who had by this time been released from the embrace of Cocardasse, and had sheathed his sword, came forward and faced Lagardere. "I desire acquaintanceship, Captain Lagardere. Men call me Æsop."