Принц і жебрак
A Victim of Treachery
Thecrowdclosedaround,threateningtheKingandcallinghimnames;abrawnyblacksmithinleatherapron,andsleevesrolledtohiselbows,madeareachforhim,sayinghewouldtrouncehimwell,foralesson;butjustthenalongswordflashedintheairandfellwithconvincingforceupontheman’sarm,flatsidedown,thefantasticownerofitremarkingpleasantly,atthesametime—
"Marry,goodsouls,letusproceedgently,notwithillbloodanduncharitablewords.Thisismatterforthelaw’sconsideration,notprivateandunofficialhandling.Loosethyholdfromtheboy,goodwife."
Theblacksmithaveragedthestalwartsoldierwithaglance,thenwentmutteringaway,rubbinghisarm;thewomanreleasedtheboy’swristreluctantly;thecrowdeyedthestrangerunlovingly,butprudentlyclosedtheirmouths.TheKingsprangtohisdeliverer’sside,withflushedcheeksandsparklingeyes,exclaiming—
"Thouhastlaggedsorely,butthoucomestingoodseason,now,SirMiles;carvemethisrabbletorags!"
