All three puzzle me, I
must say. So young and so rhetorical! So simple and so polished--an egg!
an egg! Are you English, Dutch, Irish? What the devil are you? You won't
tell me, and I don't know. But with all you say of my whirligig self I
entirely and heartily agree. That at least is to the good. I propose
that we sit down here and now, and discuss your affairs--for what better
can we do? A grassy bank! the scent of leaves! a fading sun--the solemn
evening air! Nature invites! Come, what do you say? We will eat and
drink of the best, for I and my sack are no mean caterers. We'll make
all snug for the night, and rise up betimes better friends than ever for
our late little difference of opinion."
Nothing could have been less to my taste; the man inspired me with
extreme disgust. "Fra Palamone," I said firmly, "our ways separate here.
I go to Pistoja, you where you please; or, do you go to Pistoja, I shall
take the other road. I commend you to God, I salute you, I thank you,
and hope I shall never see you again."
"English!" cried Fra Palamone, slapping his forehead. "Now I know with
whom I am dealing. Who else commends his enemy to God and hopes that the
devil will step in?" He looked me up and down triumphantly, grating his
upper lip with that fierce tusk of his. "If I were in the humour, boy,"
he said, "which you may thank Madonna I am not, I could have you on your
back in two ticks, and your hands tied behind you.
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