Part 12 (1/2)

We saluted his friends and were about to depart, when Felix Pasquini detained me.

”Pardon me,” I said. ”Let it be to-morrow.”

”We have but to move a step aside,” he urged, ”where the gra.s.s is still dry.”

”Let me then wet it for you, Sainte-Maure,” Lanfranc asked of me, eager himself to do for an Italian.

I shook my head.

”Pasquini is mine,” I answered. ”He shall be first to-morrow.”

”Are there others?” Lanfranc demanded.

”Ask de Goncourt,” I grinned. ”I imagine he is already laying claim to the honour of being the third.”

At this, de Goncourt showed distressed acquiescence. Lanfranc looked inquiry at him, and de Goncourt nodded.

”And after him I doubt not comes the c.o.c.kerel,” I went on.

And even as I spoke the red-haired Guy de Villehardouin, alone, strode to us across the moonlit gra.s.s.

”At least I shall have him,” Lanfranc cried, his voice almost wheedling, so great was his desire.

”Ask him,” I laughed, then turned to Pasquini. ”To-morrow,” I said. ”Do you name time and place, and I shall be there.”

”The gra.s.s is most excellent,” he teased, ”the place is most excellent, and I am minded that Fortini has you for company this night.”

”'Twere better he were accompanied by a friend,” I quipped. ”And now your pardon, for I must go.”

But he blocked my path.

”Whoever it be,” he said, ”let it be now.”

For the first time, with him, my anger began to rise.

”You serve your master well,” I sneered.

”I serve but my pleasure,” was his answer. ”Master I have none.”

”Pardon me if I presume to tell you the truth,” I said.

”Which is?” he queried softly.

”That you are a liar, Pasquini, a liar like all Italians.”

He turned immediately to Lanfranc and Bohemond.

”You heard,” he said. ”And after that you cannot deny me him.”

They hesitated and looked to me for counsel of my wishes. But Pasquini did not wait.

”And if you still have any scruples,” he hurried on, ”then allow me to remove them . . . thus.”