RP6 04r

anything against us. I. too, am sorry that Dismas is leprous; he's well-formed otherwise. I'm sure there's not another who'd have been his equal at scaling walls or cracking locks, and above ill at using his sword to get obedience from the rebellious.


Shut up, you peasants, my son is none of your business. I forbid you to speak insultingly of him, to his mother's grief.


Abramin, how is it that you, who understand my sorrow, have brought' tears to so many poor mothers? You haven't gotten away with all these things without shedding blood. I here was a time I would have smiled at hearing of your trans­gressions, but. now that I suffer myself. I can't take pleasure in lie sufferings of others.


It's a lucky thing you didn't come into the town of Bethlehem today, your heart would have been stirred with compassion; even my own, hardened as it is, trembled with indignation to witness such barbarity, for I don't spill blood except to defend my life.Those who are willing to sleep peacefully while I loot their -offers have nothing to fear from me. I am the most peaceable of men and my sword has never wounded an innocent.

TORCOL, in a lively tone.

Except for me, that day, or night rather, when you \hacked me on the shoulder because I wasn't getting away fast enough from a turret where I'd found a hoard of treasure. There, you who call yourself the most peaceable of men, I re­gret ever putting my white hair at your service, since you hardly respect it.

ABRAMIN, sarcastically.

This blow of my sword was well deserved. I'm quite ready to do the same again if you fail to obey me at the first command. I could care less about your white wig; I didn't know -° that you had put it at my service. You can keep it for your own, since I have no use for it. my superb head of black hair, which gives me some resemblance to the Olympian gods, is quite enough for me. As for yours, which looks like a little girl's, it's no good for anything but to be thrown into the fire.

TORCOL, in a rage.

This is too much. I am going to avenge myself for this insult.

He reaches out to a pile of empty bottles, picks up one of them, and starts to throw it at the chiefs head. Izarn rushes to defend him.

ABRAMIN grabbing Torcol's arm hard.  


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