"I'll tell you what, Decurio," he said, springing up: "we are only two left, don't let us make fools of each other; let us come to an understanding on this matter."
"If you are tired of waiting, I can press the match lower."
"This is no jest, Numa; you are risking your own life. How can you wish to send us both to hell for the sake of a pale girl? But I'll tell you what—I'll give her up to you if you will only promise that she shall be mine when you are tired of her."
"Remain here and win her—if you dare."
"To what purpose?" said the Wallachian, in a whining voice; and in his impatience he began to tear his clothes and stamp with his feet, like a petted child.
"What I have said stands good," said the Decurio; "whoever remains longest has the sole right to the lady."
"Well, I will stay, of course; but what do I gain by it? I know you will stay too, and then the devil will have us both; and I speak not only for myself when I say I do not wish that."
"If you do not wish it, you had better be gone."
"Well, I don't care—if you will give me a golden mark."
"Not the half: stay if you like it."