The Countess Sylvia had only to speak the word for the life of the King to be forfeit; while on his part, whether he lived or whether he perished, he was so sure of her castle falling into the hands of his soldiers, for he was a most powerful prince, and his resources were very great, that it was equally clear that her life also was in his power. Now, this side of the matter was very plain to the Count of Nullepart. And in the very height of their bitter enmity he sought to render it to his mistress. After the most searching abuse to which the tongue of woman was ever applied had been met by the most open contempt--not very princely bearing on the side of either, yet the sublimity of their anger seemed to make it so--they were brought to such a pass that rage tied up their very mouths, so that they were fain to conduct their warfare with their eyes. Then it was, after they had been thus outfacing one another for I know not how long a period, that the Count of Nullepart, greatly daring, made the first of his recommendations to madam. In his subtlest manner he disclosed to her the case in which she stood. “Peace, Sir Count,” she said scornfully. “You are an honest good fellow, and you have well served the grace of his lordship, but you must know I can make no abatement of my resolve. The bloody-minded prince shall perish like a felon. He shall suffer every rigour that can be devised by the outraged gentle mind and nature of a daughter. It is not for naught that this uncivil wolf of the forest is come into the sheep-fold.” “I pray you, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart, “graciously to permit me to remind you that, should the life of the King’s majesty be forfeit, his great host will raze your father’s castle to the earth. And personally I have no doubt that if a hair of this prince’s head sustains an injury, you and all its other contents will be put to the sword.” “You speak truly, Sirrah Count,” said madam. “But I myself will raze this castle to the earth, and all of us who are within it shall die upon our swords.” With his rare address the Count of Nullepart continued long to urge the more humane aspect of the matter, but the heart of his mistress was not to be moved. It was in vain that he exerted all those powers of wise enchantment in the use of which he was without a peer. His entreaties had no happier result than that the Countess Sylvia consented to postpone her measures upon the royal person of Castile against the return of her redoubtable captain, Sir Richard Pendragon, the English barbarian robber, than whom this unlucky prince had no more relentless and bitter foe.