Then he thrust him
into his chair again and stood holding him so that he could not
move.
"I do not want to hurt you," he said, "but I do not like to be
attacked in this way. If you try it again I will break some of
your bones."
Giovanni was so much astonished at finding himself so easily
overmatched that he was silent for a moment. The ex-innkeeper
relinquished his hold and picked up his cigar, which had fallen in
the struggle.
"I do not propose to wrestle with you for a match," said Giovanni
at last. "You are stronger than I, but there are other weapons
than those of brute strength. I repeat that you are an infernal
scoundrel."
"You may repeat it as often as you please," replied San Giacinto,
who had recovered his composure with, marvellous rapidity. "It
does not hurt me at all."
"Then you are a contemptible coward," cried Giovanni, hotly.
"That is not true," said the other. "I never ran away in my life.
Perhaps I have not much reason to avoid a fight," he added,
looking down at his huge limbs with a smile.
Giovanni did not know what to do. He had never had a quarrel with
a man who was able to break his neck, but who would not fight like
a gentleman. He grew calmer, and could have laughed at the
situation had it been brought about by any other cause.
Pages:
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353