proper respect of me?"

"Agostino! Agostino!" wailed my mother. "Help, Ser Giojoso! Do you not
see that he is mad!"

I do not believe that it was in my mind to do the fellow any grievous hurt.
But he was so ill-advised in that moment as to attempt to defend himself.
He rashly struck at one of the arms that held him, and by the act drove me
into a fury ungovernable.

"You dog!" I snarled at him from between clenched teeth. "Would you raise
your hand to me? Am I your lord, or am I dirt of your own kind? Go learn
submission." And I flung him almost headlong down the flight of steps.

There were twelve of them and all of stone with edges still sharp enough
though blunted here and there by time. The fool had never suspected in me
the awful strength which until that hour I had never suspected in myself.
Else, perhaps, there had been fewer insolent shrugs, fewer foolish answers,
and, last of all, no attempt to defy me physically.

He screamed as I flung him; my mother screamed; and Giojoso screamed.

After that there was a panic-stricken silence whilst he went thudding and
bumping to the bottom of the flight. I did not greatly care if I killed
him. But he was fortunate enough to get no worse hurt than a broken leg,
which should keep him out of mischief for a season and teach him respect
for me for all time.

His father scuttled down the steps to the assistance of that precious son,
who lay moaning where he had fallen, the angle at which the half of one of