he is mine, none will dispute
it. Since I may not convey him hence, this property of mine, there is
another way. Yes, I can kill him; not even the dullest among you will
question that right. Ah, you had not thought of that--vermin!"

That poor starved fellow begged us with his piteous eyes to save him;
then spoke, and said he had a wife and little children at home. Think
how it wrung our heartstrings. But what could we do? The Burgundian was
within his right. We could only beg and plead for the prisoner. Which we
did. And the Burgundian enjoyed it. He stayed his hand to hear more of
it, and laugh at it. That stung. Then the Dwarf said:

"Prithee, young sirs, let me beguile him; for when a matter requiring
permission is to the fore, I have indeed a gift in that sort, as any
will tell you that know me well. You smile; and that is punishment for
my vanity; and fairly earned, I grant you. Still, if I may toy a little,
just a little--" saying which he stepped to the Burgundian and began a
fair soft speech, all of goodly and gentle tenor; and in the midst he
mentioned the Maid; and was going on to say how she out of her good
heart would prize and praise this compassionate deed which he was about
to-- It was as far as he got. The Burgundian burst into his smooth
oration with an insult leveled at Joan of Arc. We sprang forward, but
the Dwarf, his face all livid, brushed us aside and said, in a most
grave and earnest way:

"I crave your patience. Am not I her guard of honor? This is my affair."

And saying this he suddenly shot his right hand out and gripped the
great Burgundian by the throat, and so held him upright on his feet.
"You have insulted the Maid," he said; "and the Maid is France. The
tongue that does that earns a long furlough."

One heard the muffled cracking of bones. The Burgundian's eyes began to
protrude from their sockets and stare with a leaden dullness at vacancy.
The color deepened in his face and became an opaque purple. His hands
hung down limp, his body collapsed with a shiver, every muscle relaxed
its tension and ceased from its function. The Dwarf took away his hand
and the column of inert mortality sank mushily to the ground.

We struck the bonds from the prisoner and told him he was free. His
crawling humbleness changed to frantic joy in a moment, and his ghastly
fear to a childish rage. He flew at that dead corpse and kicked it,
spat in its face, danced upon it, crammed mud into its mouth, laug