“Sit down, and take a cup of wine,” rejoined Og, filling a goblet.
“Here’s health to the bonny bride!” cried Mauger, eyeing her curiously as he raised the flagon to his lips.
“I do not like his looks,” said Lilias, clinging to her husband. “I wish he had not come.”
“Harkye, Mauger,” cried Xit, who was still standing upon the table, “thy presence is unsuited to this festive occasion, and we can, therefore, dispense with thy society.”
“I shall not go at thy bidding, thou malapert knave,” rejoined Mauger. “I came to see the bride, not thee.”
And he was about to seat himself in the chair left empty by the dwarf, when the latter prevented him, exclaiming,—
“That chair is mine. Begone instantly, if thou wouldst not be unceremoniously thrust from the room.”
Og seemed inclined to second the dwarf’s threat, but his wife interposed, saying,—
“Let him not be turned out, or it may bring us ill luck.”
“It will bring you ill luck if I be so dealt with, fair mistress,” rejoined Mauger, with an uncouth attempt at gallantry.