“Then you were afraid to come here?” And the monster tossed his head with a look of triumph.
“Afraid I might not find you.”
“You bid me defiance, and your feet have trampled on dead bodies!”
“To-morrow they may tread upon your own.”
The little man quivered with rage. Ordener stood motionless, in an attitude of haughty calm.
“Take care!” muttered the brigand; “I will burst upon you and rend you as Norwegian hailstones do a lady’s parasol.”
“Such a shield would be all-sufficient for me.”
Something in Ordener’s eye seemed to daunt the monster. He plucked the hairs from his mantle, as a tiger might devour grass before it springs upon its prey.
“You teach me what pity means,” he said.
“And you teach me what it is to scorn.”