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Neroweg's chin and cheeks are closely shaven, but his long reddish moustache droops down to his chest, which is covered by a doe-skin jacket, shines with grease, and is dotted with wine spots. Long leathern straps criss-cross over his lower hose from his coarse iron-spiked shoes up to his knees.
But still more pleasing to the eye is the large table loaded with drinking cups and half-emptied amphoras. The leudes, Neroweg's companions in arms and his equals in time of peace, have gone to play at dice with the bishop's clerks and familiars in the vestibule, after having partaken of supper at the same table with the count, as is the custom.
Most of the horses of the count's leudes matched their riders in their appearance. It was not yet the hour for the slaves to proceed to the fields, and a goodly number of Neroweg's companions, in default of battle steeds, sat astride of draft and plow horses bridled with ropes.
I take his glory, Prince Chram, for witness." "Our host and friend does his best," said Chram, who, finding his projects already somewhat deranged by the torture of Ronan the Vagre, was anxious to keep the count in good humor. "Before the cordial spirit of Neroweg's hospitality, I think little of the feast itself." "But I do think of it, glorious Prince," rejoined the bishop.
Is it the brilliant army which you lead at your heels that makes you so audacious?" queried the Prince's favorite, nodding towards Neroweg's ramshackle leudes. "If that band is up to its looks, we are lost!" Two or three of the count's leudes who had been drawing nearer, and heard the insolent jokes of Chram's favorite grumbled aloud in angry accents: "We do not like to see Neroweg bantered!"
Because, issuing through the open windows, the cries of the wassailers, from time to time, also the rattle of drums and blare of hunting horns, reached their ears. There was a feast in Neroweg's hall. On that evening he was entertaining his royal guest Chram at his best.
At the sight of those black men rising from under the ground, and yelling as if possessed, the leude who brought in the young slave also believed that they issued from hell, and rushed out close upon Neroweg's heels, crying: "The demons! The demons!" More and more frightened by these cries, the count ran to the stable, leaped upon his horse, and dashed full tilt away from the episcopal villa.
The poor creature's mind doubtlessly ran upon the circumstances of the fateful night when her husband strangled his fourth wife, shortly after having used these very words towards his then favorite slave: 'Come, come, confounded wench! Neroweg's words threw his wife into greater perturbation and frightened her to a degree that all she was able to say was: "Monseigneur! Monseigneur! Mercy!"
Seeing that the Lion of Poitiers remained unperturbed, and that he answered Neroweg's threats and the furious outcries of the crowd with a look of disdain, the Prince said to his favorite: "Come down from your horse and kneel beside us if you refuse, I shall let them cut you to pieces never have I witnessed such a storm.
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