In such circumstances our natural ally was the duke. But so completely had his lordship’s grace been overborne by the heats and violences of the day, that having picked his ortolan, he had duly fallen asleep on his stool in the middle of the negotiations. Therefore it remained for us, her councillors, to soften the affront that was like to be put by our mistress upon the Castilian. Yet in the end we could do no better than put our faith in the humanity and discretion of Don Jose de Fermosilla to represent the attitude of madam with a becoming leniency. For again and yet again did she announce her determination to flout her insolent cousin. And presently matters were brought to such a pass that it was only the highly diplomatic conduct of Sir Richard Pendragon in feigning utter deafness when she called on him in peremptory tones to summon the guard to have the envoy and the Count of Nullepart himself placed in a dungeon for seeking to outface her, that made it possible to conclude the matter at all. In the end Don Jose took his departure with a promise to the Count of Nullepart, Sir Richard Pendragon, and myself that he would represent this matter to the King his master in a spirit of forbearance. In spite of that, I think none of us reposed much faith in his assurances, which, in the face of madam’s arrogance, were given by no means heartily. Indeed, as he took his leave his eyes were furtive and lowering, and in his mien was neither kindness nor friendship. As for our mistress, surely there never was so much queenly insolence as when the ambassador made to withdraw. “We take no leave of you, Don Jose de Fermosilla,” said she. “We make you and your master no compliments. You have incurred our highest displeasure.” Don Jose de Fermosilla bowed stiffly, and with his retinue passed out at the door. “Call him again!” cried the Countess Sylvia to those who were in attendance. Don Jose returned, yet there was no abatement of his dark looks. “I would have you proceed backwards, out of our presence, Don Jose de Fermosilla,” said madam insolently. “And do you inform our cousin that it is nothing to our pleasure that we must keep a school of manners for his emissaries.” Don Jose de Fermosilla withdrew in the desired manner, biting at his lips with chagrin. CHAPTER XIX OF MADAM’S EMBASSY TO HER NEPHEW FRANCE WHEN the audience had terminated in this unfortunate manner, madam’s three councillors sat long together in anxious intercourse. “If I comprehend the disposition of man,” said the Count of Nullepart gloomily, “and more particularly the temper of princes, the puissant Castilian will be before our gates in twenty days.” “God speed his journeying, Sir Count,” said madam, the wilful cause of our foreboding. “The sooner Castile affronts our gate the sooner shall he learn our steel.” “We have but three hundred men-at-arms, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart. “They shall bear themselves as thirty thousand,” said our mistress.