He looked at me with a
contempt that even a peasant dare show to a gentleman, when the
gentleman has no money.
"Very well, then," I said. "I will leave you security."
He looked more respectful at this, and made a quick examination of me
with his eyes.
"Unless you have some jewelry about you," he said, "your sword is the
only thing that I would accept."
"You clod," I exclaimed, in a rage. "I ought to give you my sword through
the body."
"A gentleman ought not to demand, for nothing, that which a poor man
makes his living by selling," answered the host, turning to go in.
I looked down at my horse, which had already shown an endurance beyond
its stock, and which now turned its eyes, hungrily, towards the inn
stable. At the same time I thought I heard the sound of hoofs, away
northward. After all, the delivery of the letter depended more on the
horse than on my sword, for one horse is more likely to beat seven horses
than one sword to beat seven swords.
To try whether it were possible, I made one movement, as if to hand over
the weapon. But my arm refused. As well try to pluck the heart out of my
body, and give it to the dog's keeping. Rather kill the man on his own
threshold and, like a brigand, help myself. But I chose to be merciful.
"Be quick, then," I said. "Bring me some wine, and feed my horse as it
stands here. I could take, for nothing, what you ask such high
security for.
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