My interest was more than evident; it was uproarious.

I have never spent so enjoyable a day.

The fight raged after Max and I left, and there was many a sore head and broken bone that night among the Italian mercenaries of the Duke of Burgundy.
When Max and I returned to Peronne, we went to the noble church of St.
Jean and offered our humble gratitude.

Max, having thrown off his anger, proposed to buy a mass for the dead friar; but I was for leaving him in purgatory where he belonged, and Max, as usual, took my advice.
On reaching the inn, Max cried loudly for supper.

His calmness would have done credit to a hardened warrior.