"You here, Sirrah," he roared (he would have choked with rage on the
spot if he had not said Sirrah). "How on earth did _you_ get here?"
Margari instantly imagined that his honour's flashing eyes, convulsive
mouth and distorted face were the outward signs of a jocose frame of
mind, for there was always a sort of travesty of humour in Mr. John's
features whenever he was angry. So, to his own confusion, it occurred to
him to make a joke for the first time in his life.
"Crying your honour's pardon, I _flew_," said he.
And in fact the very next instant he was sent flying so impetuously that
he did not stop till he plumped right into the trellis-work surrounding
a bed of vines. Never in all his life before had Mr. John dispensed such
a buffet. Margari fairly disappeared among the leaves of the friendly
vine arbours.
It was now Mr. John's turn to be frightened at what he had done. He was
frightened because every box on the ears he gave used regularly to cost
him 200 florins, a very costly passion to indulge in. And besides he was
particularly anxious just then to keep Margari in a good humour. A man
may loathe a viper but he had better not tread on its tail if he cannot
tread on its head. Horrified at his own outburst of rage, the moment he
saw Margari disappear in the vine-arbours, he rushed after him, freed
him with his own hands, picked him up, set him on his legs again and
began to comfort him.
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