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"Of hatred for the contemptible vegetable now must I compose a sonnet..." -- thought Ambrosius, but despite his hatred of pumpkins and the offense of yet another beaten horse, he gallantly helped his opponent to her feet. -- What a desperate spirit is hidden in such a fragile body! Behind a comely face, a most dangerous talent.
- I believe I am running dry, my lord... - The loser clutched her side, from which, despite the doctors' efforts, something liquid was flowing. - ... Oh, it's just the chocolate that melted. What a loss.
-- O Aconian light... -- holding an extremely high opinion of the power of his thrusts and an extremely low one of the chocolate lady's constitution, Ambrosius for a moment even fell for this joke. -- It seems I remain in your debt, for with my fierce thrust I deprived you of your treat and at the same time damaged your elegant attire.
- It's quite all right, my lord! I have a spare outfit, and I am not lacking in treats. - She hands the victor a bar of dark chocolate. - Please, help yourself.
Where there is chocolate, there are fruits, and fruits, as is known, bode what they bode, -- Ambrosius recalled his grandfather's words. "She resembles Namma Ai, only the figure is not the same... You may climb the mountain for diamonds if you so wish, my friend, but do not let the golden nuggets slip by along the way" -- the spiteful spirit inserted its valuable opinion here as well. "You were not given the means to reach the diamond from the heights either, were you?" -- Ambrosius could not hear the gray demons, and knew little of his bodiless friend-foe, but by intuition, it seemed, he had hit the mark. "Perhaps... And perhaps the true diamonds were the companions with whom I walked the path..." -- this time, a barely perceptible note of sadness was added to the voice of the genie-under-the-ear.
-- I thank you! I shall not miss the chance to taste that which your native land is famed for, and indeed the custom of my own fatherland deems it proper that the victor of friendly duels always claim at least a small reward, lest we anger the gods and ancestors... But it seems neither the time nor the place here for a lengthy exchange of courtesies; the arena must be cleared for the next worthy combatants of the contest.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
Граф Орлов
