But Jules still cried: “More wine!” And Blanca poured
Like Hebe for this flagrant Hercules,
While ever and anon she eyed his sword;
But—happier fate—while drains he to the lees
Another cup, he drops his head and frees
His carbine with the movement. Swift as thought,
She lifts the weapon—to the vineyard flees;—
The deadly tube she to a level brought,
When Ana’s struggling arm a friendly vine-branch caught.
XI.