“I am indeed between the vulture and the kite,” said the King with a wry smile, while we were leading him away from this unfortunate audience. “My amiable, gentle, and dove-like cousin is desirous to cut off my ears, and proposes to slay me an inch at a time. I shall therefore be curious to learn the measures that are proposed by my friend of England. He will, doubtless, ordain that I am cooked in a pot.” We conducted the royal captive to the apartment in which he had supped. In this comfortable place we laid him that he might abide the return of not the least of his enemies. In so doing, however, we ventured to disobey the explicit will of our mistress. As we had left her presence she had enjoined us strictly that “the vile spawn of darkness be thrown among rats into the deepest and slimiest of the dungeons underground.” The King slept soundly after his late fatigues, but there was no repose that night for any others within the castle. The minds of all, from that of madam herself to that of the meanest scullion, were filled by a single theme. What had befallen Sir Richard Pendragon? Already the exploits of the English giant had given to his name and personality something of a supernatural cast. Nor was this merely the view of the commonalty; it was shared by our mistress and the highly sagacious Count of Nullepart. Under the direction of such a leader we knew that great haps were toward in the darkness. And so lively and profound were our speculations of their nature, that excitement and anxiety reigned through all the long hours of the night. CHAPTER XXXV OF SIR RICHARD PENDRAGON’S RETURN THE dawn came, yet Sir Richard Pendragon came not. I then made a proposal to our mistress, who had spent the night like a veritable captain walking upon her battlements. It was that I should be permitted to sally out into the plain with the hundred men remaining in our hands, in order that I might seek for our good friends, and if they were in need of succour to bear it to them. To this proposal madam assented. The Count of Nullepart, however, was greatly averse from it. He declared it to be the height of impolicy to withdraw from the castle the whole of its defence. It was in vain that I pointed out that as far as the eye could scan none of our enemy was visible. It would seem that the Castilian host had withdrawn in the night. Yet, greatly to my chagrin, it was given to the Count of Nullepart to prevail in his contention. It was doubtless due to the weight of his years that madam saw fit to revoke her permission. The hours passed, however, and still Sir Richard Pendragon came not. Then it was that some sort of consternation began to fall upon us. Yet, as our high hopes began to wane a little, and anxious faces were to be seen on every hand, the Countess Sylvia refused stoutly to believe that misfortune had overtaken her arms.