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Meredith, George, 1828-1909

"Farina"

His first call was for Schwartz Thier. The men made way, and he
beheld his man in no condition to make military responses. He shouted
for Henker Rothhals, and again the men opened their ranks mutely,
exhibiting the two stretched out in diverse directions, with their feet
slanting to a common point. The Baron glared; then caught off his mailed
glove, and thrust it between his teeth. A rasping gurgle of oaths was
all they heard, and presently surged up,
'Who was it?'
Margarita's eyes were shut. She opened them fascinated with horror.
There was an unearthly awful and comic mixture of sounds in Werner's
querulous fury, that was like the noise of a complaining bear, rolling up
from hollow-chested menace to yawning lament. Never in her life had
Margarita such a shock of fear. The half gasp of a laugh broke on her
trembling lips. She stared at Werner, and was falling; but Farina's arm
clung instantly round her waist. The stranger caught up her laugh, loud
and hearty.
'As for who did it, Sir Baron,' he cried, is a cheery tone, 'I am the
man! As you may like to know why--and that's due to you and me both of
us--all I can say is, the Black Muzzle yonder lying got his settler for
merry-making with this peaceful maiden here, without her consent--an
offence in my green island they reckon a crack o' the sconce light
basting for, I warrant all company present,' and he nodded sharply about.


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