“I observe it was made in Milan,” said he. “It must have lain for years in a nobleman’s family. My own was fashioned in Baghdat, but I would say this is almost as choice as the gift of the Sophy. And as I say, my son, it certainly makes an uncommonly fine appearance on the hand of a gentleman.” Thereupon Sir Richard Pendragon pressed the slender band of metal upon the large fat middle finger of his right hand. “It comes on by no means so easy as the Sophy’s gift,” said he; “but then, to be sure, my old gossip had a true circumference taken by the court jeweller. I often think of that court jeweller, such an odd, brisk little fellow as ’a was. ’A had a cast in the right eye, and I remember that when he walked one leg went shorter than its neighbour. But for all that ’a knew what an agate was, and his face was as open as a fine evening in June.” With an air of pleasantry that was impossible to resist, Sir Richard passed his cup and exhorted me to drain it. I drank a little of the wine, yet with some uneasiness, for it was sore to me that my father’s talisman was upon the hand of a stranger. “I shall thank you, sir, to restore the ring to my care.” “With all the pleasure in life, my son.” The Englishman took hold of his finger and gave it a mighty pull, but the ring did not yield. He shook his head and began to whistle dolefully. “Why, as I am a good Christian man this plaguy ring sticks to my hand like a sick kitten to a warm hearthstone. Try it, my son, I pray you.” I also took a pull at the ring, which was wedged so firmly upon his hand, but it would not budge. “This is indeed a terrible matter,” said Sir Richard Pendragon. “What is to be done, young Spaniard?” He called the innkeeper and bade him bring a bowl of cold water. Into this he dipped his finger; and although he held it in the water for quite a long time, the ring and his right hand could not be induced to part company. “What is the price you set upon this ring, my young companion?” “The ring is beyond price--it was my mother’s--and has ever been in the keeping of an ancient house.” “If it is beyond price there is an end to the question. I was about to offer you money, but I see you have one of those lofty spirits that can brook no vulgar dross. Well, well, pride of birth is a good thing, and money is but little. Yet one who has grown old in the love of virtue would like to requite you in some way. Had we not better throw a main with the dice? If I win I wear the ring for my lawful use; and if I lose you shall have the good tuck that was given to me by the King of Bavaria for helping him against the Dutch.” I did not accept this suggestion, as you may believe. Yet it gave me sore concern to see my father’s heirloom upon the hand of this foreigner. In what fashion it was to be lured from his finger I was at a loss to know; and in my inexperience of the world I did not know what course to embrace. CHAPTER V I HEAR OF THE PRINCESS