"You held long enough parley with him yourself," said the refractory
pupil.

"Look you, Master Leonard Ashton, I do not presume to offer myself
as an example to you save, perhaps, in the matter of sitting a steed,
or handing a wine-cup. I have no purse to lose, and I have wit to
keep it if I had, or at least," as a recollection crossed him, "if
I lost it, it should be to please myself, and not _le Borgne Basque_;
above all, my name and fame are made, and yours--"

"What would you say of mine?" said Leonard, with sulky indignation.
"The heir of Ashton is not to be evened to a wandering landless
foreigner."

"It is not in sight of these mountain peaks," said Gaston,
contemptuously, "that I am to be called a foreigner; and as to being
landless, if I chose to take my stand on the old tower of Albricorte,
and call myself Lord of the whole hill-side, I should like to see
who would gainsay me. For name, I suspect you will find that many
a man has trembled at the sound of Beranger d'Albricorte, to whom
Ashton would be but that of an English clown. Moreover, in this
camp I would have you to know that the question is, not who has the
broadest lands, but who has the strongest arm. And, sir Squire, if
you are not above listening to a piece of friendly counsel, to brag
of those acres of yours is the surest way to attract spoilers. I
had rather a dozen time trust Eustace in such company than you, not
only because he has more wit, but because he has less coin."

"Who is this man? What is his name?" asked Eustace.