“I would,” said the child, “pull out some of my lord’s teeth, put a bit serviced apartments hk in his mouth, and make him run, bridled, till he dropped from fatigue.” “His feet are too sore; he would fall down at the first step. And you others? Tambouris, Moustakas, Coltzida, Milotia, speak, I am listening.” “I,” said Coltzida, “I would break boiling hot eggs under his arm-pits. I tried it on a woman of Magara, and I had much fun.” “I,” said Tambouris, “I would put him on the ground with a rock weighing five hundred pounds on his chest. It thrusts out one’s tongue and makes one spit blood; it is fine!” “I,” said Milotia, “I would put vinegar in his nostrils, and drive thorns under every nail. One sneezes violently and one does not know what to do with one’s hands.” Moustakas was one of the cooks of the band. He proposed to cook research centerme in front of a small fire. The King’s face expanded. The monk assisted at the conference, and let them talk without giving his advice. He, however, took pity on me, according to the measure of his sensibility, and helped me as far as his intelligence permitted. “Moustakas,” he said, “is too wicked. One can torture milord finely without burning him alive. If you will give him salt meat without allowing him to drink he will live a long time, he will suffer a great deal, and the King will satisfy his vengeance without interfering with God’s vengeance. It is my disinterested advice which I give you; I shall make nothing by it; but I wish everyone to be pleased, since the monastery has received its tithe.” “Halt, there!” interrupted the coffee-bearer. “Good old man, I have an idea which is better than thine. I condemn milord to die of hunger. The others will do any evil to him which pleases them; I will not hinder them. But I would place a sentinel before his mouth, and I would take care that he had neither a drop of water nor a crumb of bread. Weakness would redouble his hunger; his wounds would increase his thirst, and the tortures of the finish him to my profit. What dost thou say, Sire? Is it not well reasoned and will it not give me Vasile’s place?” “Go to the devil, all of you!” cried the King. “You would reason less calmly if the wretch had plundered you of 80,000 francs! Carry him away to the camp and take your pleasure out of him. But unhappy the one who kills him by any imprudence! This man must die only by dermes my hand. I intend that he shall reimburse me, in pleasure, for all that he has taken from me in money. He shall shed his blood drop by drop, as a bad debtor who pays sou by sou.”
