Cecilio squeezed out a tear.
"The truth is," said he, "I regret seeing your beautiful saddle on the back of such a sorry brute, and I am ashamed at the miserable appointments that the horse I have won is provided with. But, if your lord ship is in the humor, would it suit you to play for the saddle and bridle?"
This was too much. Overcome by this last piece of ingratitude, "Take care," I cried, cocking a pistol, "that I do not take back a horse which you are not worthy to mount."
Cecilio made no other reply to this threat than by spurring his horse and whistling on the Spanish dog, which had looked upon this scene with a painful air of dumb anxiety. I whistled also. Thus forced to choose between two parties whom he had affectionately loved all his life, the poor animal hesitated. He ran up to Storm, and then came back to me with a most pitying expression in his face. The convulsive movements of his body betrayed his anguish, and showed the struggle that was going on within. His limbs shook for an instant; he then gave three convulsive howls, darted-from me, and was soon lost in the dust raised by his much-loved companion. I remained alone. My heart was in a storm of rage and grief, and I was even tempted to vent my ill-humor on the miserable hack that fortune had left me, but this weakness lasted only for a moment. I had learned, in the many crosses incident to a life of stirring adventure, the difficult virtue of resignation, and the different phases of this sentimental episode had been accompanied by circumstances so ludicrous that I finished by throwing myself on the grass and bursting into a violent fit of laughter.
