No! he would rather trust to casualties than to his own resolve-
rather go on sitting at the feast and sipping the wine he loved,
though with the sword hanging over him and terror in his heart, than
rush away into the cold darkness where there was no pleasure left. The
utmost concession to Dunstan about the horse began to seem easy,
compared with the fulfilment of his own threat. But his pride would
not let him recommence the conversation otherwise than by continuing
the quarrel. Dunstan was waiting for this, and took his ale in shorter
draughts than usual.
'It's just like you,' Godfrey burst out, in a bitter tone, 'to talk
about my selling Wildfire in that cool way- the last thing I've got to
call my own, and the best bit of horse-flesh I ever had in my life.
And if you'd got a spark of pride in you, you'd be ashamed to see
the stables emptied, and everybody sneering about it. But it's my
belief you'd sell yourself, if it was only for the pleasure of
making somebody feel he'd got a bad bargain.'
'Aye, aye,' said Dunstan, very placably, 'you do me justice, I see.
You know I'm a jewel for 'ticing people into bargains. For which
reason I advise you to let me sell Wildfire. I'd ride him to the
hunt tomorrow for you, with pleasure. I shouldn't look so handsome
as you in the saddle, but it's the horse they'll bid for, and not
the rider.'
'Yes, I daresay- trust my horse to you!'
'As you please,' said Dunstan, rapping the window-seat again with
an air of great unconcern.
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