Adventure stories; British -- Spain -- Fiction; Swordsmen -- Fiction
“But may it please your ladyship,” said the captain of the guard, “they
have only been in the service of his grace a twelvemonth; and never
having had the honour of seeing your ladyship, they knew you not.”
“If you venture to pass words with me, sirrah,” said the Countess
Sylvia, “you shall go to a dungeon yourself. By my life, it is well I
am come home! Even you dogs of soldiers have forgot your duty; but, by
my good soul, I will have it rectified.”
With the arrogance of a queen she disdained the service of the Count
of Nullepart, but allowed me to lift her from the saddle. Gathering up
her coarse grey garments, she bade the cowed and abashed captain of the
guard, a swollen and overbearing fellow with a pair of mustachios that
were capable of striking terror into the boldest heart, and who might
have concealed his mistress altogether in the capacious folds of his
gaberdine, conduct her to her father.
Asking leave of none and standing upon no formality, we all three
passed directly to that apartment of which I had had such a bitter
experience. I must confess, to my shame, that, as again I entered
it and beheld all those objects that were imprinted on my mind so
indelibly, I was sensible of a grave uneasiness.
As on the previous day, the duke was seated on his high chair, with
the dwarf at his back. At the appearance of his daughter he rose with
a sharp exclamation of surprise. He came forward to greet her, and she
met him gently with all her anger cooled, and received his embrace with
every mark of pleasure.
“But this is most singular,” said the duke, when he had bestowed these
marks of his affection. “What do you here, my delightful one? How have
you travelled? In what manner have you been accompanied?”
“My lord,” she answered, “I am here of your kingdom’s business. I have
travelled upon an old horse I took of the Mother Superior; and I have
been accompanied part of the journey by my five wits, and the other
part of it by these two honest gentlemen, whom I now present to your
lordship’s grace.”
“Oh and soh!” said the duke, after accepting our obeisances with a
disapproval he could ill conceal. “This is a very ill and froward
matter.”
It alarmed me to see his face grow red and to hear the harsh manner in
which he spoke these words. He put his daughter in no fear, however.
“Yes, your lordship,” she said calmly. “Being arrived at the age of
eighteen years, and knowing well that a wise and mature mind was needed
to direct your affairs, which the old fat man, your lordship’s chief
councillor, hath embroiled for so long a season, I deemed it time,
being arrived at eighteen years I say, to repair to the service of your
lordship.”
I think a great man can seldom have been gravelled so badly as was the
duke at these words. He could but open his mouth and gasp.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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