Adventure stories; British -- Spain -- Fiction; Swordsmen -- Fiction
Yet the Englishman, although his dress in its inconsistency was
scarcely above my own, and though his pretext was so abominably false
that it had only to be exposed to place his life in jeopardy, was just
as much upon his ease in this dangerous place as if he had been abroad
in the plain. Without removing his bonnet or showing the least concern
for the dignity of the palace, he uttered a ribald joke in the ear of
Don Luiz and spoke to him of the weather.
When at last we were ushered into the presence of the duke I tried to
muster my courage, for I felt that the great moment of my life was
come. Striving to make an honourable appearance I bore my head high
and held myself in the most martial manner I could assume, and through
the haze that oppressed my eyes I strove to stand worthy of my quest
and the noble lady I was come to serve. You will understand, gentle
reader, that all depended on the fair impression I must contrive to
make upon the great nobleman who was about to receive me. Yet I was
fain to reflect that I must have done better justice to my birth and
breeding, which were all the credentials I had to offer, had I not been
so unluckily accompanied. I am sure no one could have been more deeply
sensible of the disadvantage of such a companionship. The flippant
behaviour of Sir Richard Pendragon must have sorely abated the grace
of my bearing, since such a mode of entry as he adopted before a great
personage must have been wholly to the detriment of any who followed in
his train. Indeed this extraordinary person was humming a catch as he
swaggered like a common ruffler, with his bonnet on, into the presence
of his grace, the Duke of Montesina.
The private chamber in which the duke sat was smaller than the others
through which we had passed. It was draped heavily with gorgeous
tapestries, and instead of rushes upon the floor there was a rich
Arabian carpet. The first thing I perceived was a noble painting of the
Holy Virgin. The duke was sitting in a gilded chair placed on a daïs
near a window through which streamed the beams of the bright sun. He
was engaged upon a refection of light wine and oat cake, and was alone
save for a dwarf who mowed at us behind the chair of his master.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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