"
"O base, most base!" the maid did scornful cry,
And viewed him o'er with proud, disdainful eye.
"That I should owe my life to man like thee!
That one so base could fight and master three!
Who art thou, man, and what? Speak me thy name,
Whither ye go and why, and whence ye came,
Thy rank, thy state, thy worth to me impart,
If soldier, serf, or outlawed man thou art;
And why 'neath ragged habit thou dost wear
A chain of gold such as but knights do bear,
Why thou canst front three armed rogues unafraid,
Yet fear methinks to look upon a maid?"
But to these questions Pertinax sat dumb--
That is, he rubbed his chin and murmured, "Hum!"
Whereat she, frowning, set determined chin
And thus again to question did begin:
SHE: What manner of man art thou?
HE: A man.
SHE: A soldier?
HE: Thou sayest.
SHE: Art in service?
HE: Truly.
SHE: Whom serve ye?
HE: A greater than I.
SHE: Art thou wed?
HE: The Saints forfend!
SHE: Then art a poor soldier and solitary.
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