hang ye for killing me, Benedetto. And, since you've killed in the
King's Palace, they'll draw and quarter you; but you're too mad
to care. Grant me, though, ye never heard a better tale."
'He said nothing, but I felt him shake. My head on his chest
shook; his right arm fell away, his left dropped the knife, and he
leaned with both hands on my shoulder - shaking - shaking! I
turned me round. No need to put my foot on his knife. The man
was speechless with laughter - honest craftsman's mirth. The first
time I'd ever seen him laugh. You know the mirth that cuts off the
very breath, while ye stamp and snatch at the short ribs? That was
Benedetto's case.

'When he began to roar and bay and whoop in the passage, I
haled him out into the street, and there we leaned against the wall
and had it all over again - waving our hands and wagging our
heads - till the watch came to know if we were drunk.

'Benedetto says to 'em, solemn as an owl: "You have saved me
thirty pounds, Mus' Dawe," and off he pealed. In some sort we
were mad-drunk - I because dear life had been given back to me,
and he because, as he said afterwards, because the old crust of
hatred round his heart was broke up and carried away by
laughter. His very face had changed too.

'"Hal," he cries, "I forgive thee. Forgive me too, Hal. Oh,
you English, you English! Did it gall thee, Hal, to see the rust on
the dirty sword? Tell me again, Hal, how the King grunted with
joy. Oh, let us tell the Master."

'So we reeled back to the chapel, arms round each other's