If you would have stronger, said
the Bermecide, you need only speak, for I have several sorts in
my cellar; try how you like this; upon which he made as if he
poured out another glass to himself, and then to my brother; and
did this so often, that Schacabac, feigning to be drunk with the
wine, took up his hand, and gave the Bermecide such a box on the
ear as made him fall down; he lifted up his hand to give him
another blow; but the Bermecide, holding up his hand to ward it
off, cried to him, What! are you mad? Then my brother, making as
if he had come to himself again, said, My lord, you have been so
good as to admit your slave into your house, and give him a great
treat; you should have been satisfied in making me eat, and not
have obliged me to drink wine; for I told you beforehand that it
might occasion me to come short in my respect: I am very much
troubled at it, and beg you a thousand pardons. He had scarcely
finished these words, when the Bermecide, instead of being in a
rage, fell a laughing with all his might. It is a long time, said
he, since I wished a man of your character.
The Bermecide caressed Schacabac mightily, and told him, I not
only forgive the blow you have given me, but am willing
henceforward we should be friends; and that you take my house for
your home: you have been so complaisant as to accommodate
yourself to my humour, and have had the patience to bear the jest
out to the last; we will now eat in good earnest.
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