I could give you my word as a Spaniard," Inigo said. "No good," the man in black replied. "I've known too many Spaniards.

While he was watching the ships, Buttercup shoved him with all her strength remaining. Down went the man in black. "You can die too for all I care," she said, and then she turned away. Words followed her. Whispered from afar, weak and warm and familiar. "As...you...wish...

Why do you wear a mask and hood?" I think everybody will in the near future," was the man in black's reply. "They're terribly comfortable.

Now what happens?" asked the man in black. "We face each other as God intended," Fezzik said. "No tricks, no weapons, skill against skill alone." "You mean you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword and we'll try to kill each other like civilized people, is that it?

See?" Fezzik pointed then. Far down, at the very bottom of the mountain path, the man in black could be seen running. "Inigo is beaten." Inconceivable!" exploded the Sicilian. Fezzik never dared disagree with the hunchback. "I'm so stupid," Fezzik nodded. "Inigo has not lost to the man in black, he has defeated him. And to prove it he has put on all the man in black's clothes and masks and hoods and boots and gained eighty pounds.

You seem a decent fellow," Inigo said. "I hate to kill you." You seem a decent fellow," answered the man in black. "I hate to die.

You're alive!" Fezzik cried. The man in black sat immobile, like a ventriloquist's dummy, just his mouth moving. "That is perhaps the most childishly obvious remark I have ever come across...