It was between six and seven o’clock of the summer’s morning when the horse of our youthful mistress was led out of its stall. It proved to be a shambling old white palfrey, as halt as a cow, and nearly as blind as a stone. Before the lady would suffer herself to be mounted she must needs examine its new shoe, which, happily for the smith, whoever he might be, had been laid on craftily enough to obtain the sanction of her goodwill and pleasure. By the time this ancient quadruped had been led forth into the inn yard, and had fully justified the title of “a notorious milk and butter carrier,” as applied to it by the Count of Nullepart, I had determined, come what might, to be the foremost in helping our mistress into the saddle. I had contrived it that I should stoop to her and put out my hand with great alacrity, yea, I had even got so far as to clasp her boot in my palm, when, of a sudden motion, the Count of Nullepart took her round the middle without more ado, and deposited her, whip and all, upon the back of her palfrey with as little concern as if she had been a bundle of feathers. I think we were both proud men as we rode forth of the inn yard in such society. Yet, if I must speak the truth, I was on ill terms with myself for having lacked the count’s boldness. Still, the manner in which he had taken her out of my grasp came very near to violence. And so far was she from checking him for his forwardness that she appeared, with some perversity as I conceived, to hold it nothing to his detriment. For all through the city she requited what I was forced to consider a rude importunity with the favour of her entire conversation. “Do I take it, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart, “that your father, his lordship’s grace, has the whole of this fair city for his dominion?” “No, sir,” said the lady, with petulance; “it is under the sway of the Archbishop of Toledo, a crafty and meddlesome priest. If my father had had a better thrift, so that his coffers had a richer lining, and the sharpest of his enemies were not like to be at his gate, I would urge him to wrest this fair town from this hateful churchman and put the old rascal to the sword.” As she spoke these words in her fine clear speech, she swept a glance of so much splendour over the crowding gabled roofs, the trees and bazaars, and the tall spires of the churches, as plainly showed that that sweetly delectable form harboured a spirit that was bold and warlike. Nor was her utterance a light one. She did not speak for several minutes, for her words had caused her to fall into a muse.