It was then that the silence of the gentlemen of the King’s Guard yielded to expressions of pleasure. They crowded round the victor, shook him by the hand, paid him most flattering addresses; and nothing would content these Frenchmen, regaled as they had been by great generosity and the highest skill, save that the Englishman and also his companions should remain with them, drink their wine, and partake of their hospitality. Indeed, the rest of the evening was the most delectable it could have been given to any travellers to spend. We were treated with the most distinguished consideration by those who were not accustomed to exercise it on a light pretext. Yet it soon became clear that they had come to regard their guests as mysterious. The French, as all travellers allow, are people of quick parts; and while they feasted and flattered us, it was plain to these gentlemen that we were other than we seemed. With all the courtesy possible, for even the Englishman could doff his brusque manners when it suited his humour, we declined to disclose a word of our embassy, contenting ourselves merely with inquiring whether the King was at Paris. It was our good fortune to learn that he was. As the evening passed we felt ourselves to be the objects of a particular scrutiny. Our new friends grew most curious concerning us. After we had supped they asked us to take a hand at the cards. My two companions accepted this invitation; but I refrained from it because I was still very poor, and perhaps quite as conclusively because my northern breeding induces the virtue of caution. No sooner had Sir Richard Pendragon and the Count of Nullepart begun to play than the interest of these gentlemen grew lively indeed. This was not so much aroused by the demeanour of the conqueror of M. du Bartas, but rather by that of the Count of Nullepart, who, in spite of his long beard and rustical Spanish, betrayed his true condition in unsuspected ways to those who were themselves high-born. First, they observed his white and shapely hands as they lay upon the board. Again, there was the delicacy of his features, the natural politeness of his gestures; and yet again, they could not fail to detect the subtle and charming quality of the accent that lurked beneath his assumption of a rustical brogue. Thus it fell out that presently they came once more to confer among themselves, and then one of these gentlemen said with a most profound respect to the so-called Señor Fulano, “By my life, monseigneur, is not this a----” Before this gentleman could conclude his remark the Count of Nullepart answered him in his charming natural speech and in the French tongue, “My good Clery, you are seldom prudent in the evening; and I am told it is entirely due to this misfortune of yours that you still remain without advancement. All the world knows that at Paris nowadays one must learn to see little and to speak less.”