"Why, you see, I have disposed of it so often! But let us return to the stranger, to pretty Miretta—for her name is Miretta, is it not?"
"Yes, that is the name by which her companion, the stout peasant, called her."
"And she is an Italian?"
"No; she told us that she was from Béarn; but it seems that she has lived in Italy a long while."
"O mia cara!—I know a few words of Italian—they may be very useful to me. As I was saying, superb Ambroisine, your conduct was glorious! You showed a courage—a valor—if you had been of my family, you could have done no better. That damned Jarnonville—— He does not hear me; I think that he's asleep."
"Oh, no! he is not asleep; he is thinking, but not of us. Indeed, I would wager that he doesn't even see that we are here!"
"He may hear me or not, I snap my fingers at him! That damned Jarnonville, by a bungler's thrust—for it is never used, everybody scorns to use it—however, he knocked my sword from my hand; and I said to myself just now: 'How in the deuce could I have let Roland go? There must have been some deviltry about it, for it is the first time I was ever disarmed!'—Well, sandioux! I have found the cause, while wiping the hilt of my weapon.—What do you suppose I found on it, just at the spot where one grasps it? I will give you ten thousand guesses."
"I prefer that you should tell me at once."
"Well, my beauty, I found a strip of pork twisted around the hilt of Roland. So you will see that it is not surprising that my sword slipped from my hand. Ah! cadédis! if I knew who played me that vile trick of larding my sword like a partridge!—You laugh, I believe——"
"Bless me! monsieur le chevalier, it seems to me so amusing that your rapier should have been treated like a fowl; it is laughable enough!"