Was ever man so cursed with the unlucky tongue within him! No sooner had I dropped a word about his daughter than a lively purple ran into his face, and that countenance which had been so gracious grew suddenly so arrogant that I was filled with qualms. “Are you a prince of the sangre azul of Spain, Don Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas,” said he, “that you seek to serve my daughter?” “Not a prince, my lord,” said I with proud humility, “but there is no choicer blood than ours in the Asturias.” “Then, sir, since you are not a prince, and you have made mention of my daughter, our interview is at an end.” “My lord, when I spoke of your lordship’s daughter, I spoke in humility. Wherein have I had the unhappiness to offend the grace of your lordship?” “The offence is nature’s, sir, in not making you a prince,” said the duke with a surprising choler. “I give you good day, Don Miguel.” He bowed low, and the portly Don Luiz opened the door. I found myself in the antechamber without the least recollection of my coming there. Indeed, in such a degree was I embarrassed by the duke’s anger that at first I did not know where I was or what I did. I stood lost in wonder. I wondered at the duke, I wondered at myself, but most of all I wondered at the world and its courses. I could not believe that a man should be so affronted at so seemly a mention of his daughter. I could have shed tears at this rebuff, and the deplorable case in which I stood, but my father’s wisdom stole through my veins like a balm, and I remembered that adversity is one of God’s stratagems to test the temper of the least of His servants. As I took my way to the gate of the castle with my feathers drooping, I encountered the more fortunate Sir Richard Pendragon smiling at his private thoughts and sucking sack off his beard. “Hullo, good springald youth,” he said, “you have met your fall I perceive. But, my young son of the Spains, I pray you to remember that a man with a provincial manner should not speak to a duke of his daughter. Sell oranges and make your fortune, for I fear that make it otherwise you never will. But, my young companion, I pray you do not take it too much amiss. There are many blows on the sconce to receive as you go through the world. And let me tell you, Miguel, I am prone to a tenderness in cases of grave, persistent, and determined folly. And so, Miguel, I have a tenderness to thee. Fare thee well, my young companion, and here is a purse containing eight crowns and an old heirloom, for I am determined upon it that thou shall not suffer for a start in life.” These words were spoken not unkindly, and I was grateful to this barbarian for speaking them; but I think I might have been grateful had a dog so much as looked at me just then. And to my great astonishment here was my old dogskin and my father’s patrimony and my mother’s ring come back to me. But rejoiced as I was to get them again, I deemed it wise that no questions should pass upon the subject.