f the fray;
but I told him very coolly that, being the aggressor, he was in the
wrong, and in the second place I was not going to expose myself to be
beaten to a jelly by two lusty peasants in another man's quarrel.

These arguments did not satisfy him, and in his rage he dared to tell me
that I was a scurvy coward not to know that it was my duty to defend a
friend to the death.

In spite of these offensive remarks I merely replied with a glance of
contempt, which he doubtless understood.

Before long the whole village had heard what had happened, and the joy
was universal, for the count had the singular privilege of being feared
by all and loved by none. The two rebellious peasants had taken to their
heels. But when it became known that his lordship had announced his
resolution to carry pistols with him in all future visits, everybody was
alarmed, and two spokesmen were sent to the count informing him that all
his tenants would quit the estate in a week's time unless he gave them a
promise to leave them in peace in their humble abodes.

The rude eloquence of the two peasants struck me as sublime, but the
count pronounced them to be impertinent and ridiculous.

"We have as good a right to taste the vines which we have watered with
the sweat of our brow," said they, "as your cook has to taste the dishes
before they are served on your table."

The threat of deserting just at the vintage season frightened the count,
and he had to give in, and the embassy went its way in high glee at its
success.

Next Sunday we went to the chapel to hear mass, and when we came in the
priest was at the altar finishing the Credo. The count looked furious,
and after mass he took me with him to the sacristy, and begun to abuse
and beat the poor priest, in spite of the surplice which he was still
wearing. It was really a shocking sight.

The priest spat in his face and cried help, that being the only revenge
in his power.

Several persons ran in, so we left the sacristy. I was scandalised, and I
told the count that the priest would be certain to go to Udine, and that
it might turn out a very awkward business.

"Try to prevent his doing so," I added, "even by violence, but in the
first place endeavour to pacify him."

No doubt the count was afraid, for he called out to his servants and
ordered them to fetch the priest, whether he could come or no. His order
was executed, and the priest was led in, foaming with rage, cursing the
cou