“ ‘I advise you,’ said Haria, in a furious tone, ‘to attack me with such speeches. Truly it well becomes a pitiful younger son from Gascony, whom I have taken from a garret, which was not good enough for my dogs, to give himself airs of nicety! To be sure, your sheets were perfumed, my little squire, when you dwelt in furnish’d lodgings. Know this once for all, that my dogs were long before you in possession of my bed, and that you may choose either to quit it, or be content to share it with them.’

“The declaration was peremptory, and our dogs remain’d masters of their post. But one night, as we were all asleep, Sindor, in turning unluckily kick’d Zinzolina. The hound, not used to such treatment, bit the calf of his leg; and madam was immediately awaked by Sindor’s cries. ‘What is the matter with you, Sir, one would think your throat was cutting: you dream.’

“ ‘It is your dogs, madam, that devour me, and your greyhound has just torn off a piece of my leg.’

“ ‘Is that all?’ says Haria, turning from him. ‘You make a vast noise for nothing.’