Upon this speaking the blood of my ancestors mounted in my veins. “Sir Count,” said I, “I fear not either. You shall offer a parole to the King’s majesty.” “The honour is yours, my dear Don Miguel.” “I do myself the honour of yielding to your years and merit, most worshipful Count of Nullepart.” But, in spite of his protests, the Count of Nullepart persisted smilingly in conferring the signal honour upon Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas of offering a parole to his Majesty the King of Castile. “An it graciously please your Majesty,” said I, “this grievous restraint shall be spared you, if you will deign to give your kingly word that neither by speech nor act will you reveal your gracious and royal presence unto your loyal subjects should they fare hither in quest of your gracious Majesty.” The King did not hesitate to bestow his thanks upon us for our favourable consideration, and duly pledged his sovereign word. Now I know there are some who say, “Put not your faith in princes”; but from this time onwards it has ever been a source of sincere gratification that the Count of Nullepart and I thought well to reject this adage. For, as you are to learn, the bare word of the King was about to be tried in the severest possible way; and it must always be written to his honour that, captive and enforced as he was, neither by word nor deed did he do violence to his covenant. It happened about midday, as we were viewing with a continual anxiety the number and proximity of our foes, who were ever moving nearer and nearer towards us, that we observed a party of them making for our hiding-place. To escape their notice was impossible, as the clump of alder trees was too meagre to cover us closely; and had we moved out into the open meadows we must have been seen at once. Therefore in this dangerous pass we had a free recourse to our five wits. First, we crept down to the stream and plucked several armfuls of the long rushes that grew there. Returning thence to our hiding-place we turned over the bag so that its princely burden was laid on its belly, with humble and profound apologies for the necessity, and having seated ourselves upon our illustrious captive--with as little hardship to him as we could contrive--proceeded to weave our rushes busily, as though we were a couple of peasants whose trade was the making of baskets. When the soldiers came near we were to be seen labouring assiduously, while the bag upon which we were set was very fairly concealed. And when we observed them to be moving towards us in a straight line, so that further secrecy was out of the question, the Count of Nullepart lifted up his voice in a merry lilt, lest it should appear that we had a desire to shirk them. His song seemed to startle them, for as they came up, and they numbered near to a dozen, their captain asked us roughly what the devil we did there. “We are pursuing our trade, gracious excellency,” said the Count of Nullepart.