sea of bales and asses' ears; getting small joy of that, he scowled portentously at the little minstrel and took a stride forward.
"Look you, sprigling," said he, "you have to do with a man of deeds; a man, by Saint Hercules, of steel."
Angioletto was fired, cheek and eye. He never faltered.
"I wish I had to do with a man of sense," he said.
"If you do not drop that lady's hand, my lad—" growled the Mosca.
"What then, sir?"
"Then," the Captain roared, "by the ante-chambers of Paradise, she shall cling to carrion!"
Bellaroba with a little cry fell to her knees; Olimpia bit her finger; Angioletto shrugged.
"You have better lungs than manners, Captain," he said quietly. "These ladies of ours are fatigued with travel and tired of fasting. Moreover, I apprehend a bale of carpets on my back at every moment. We will, so please you, sup. If you and the lady whom you escort will do me the honour of sharing my table we can arrange other matters at our leisure. I have always understood that encounters before ladies are make-believe; but your experience should inform you how far that is true. By leave, Signor Capitano."
Whereupon he lifts up the praying Bellaroba, kisses her forehead, and hands her into the inn as bold as a Viscount. One or two tongues were in one or two cheeks; one hand at least clapped him on the shoulder for a "little assas-
