I know not what were the feelings of the Count of Nullepart, but I have to confess, good reader, that for myself I have seldom been thrown into a greater concern. From the light in which the duke chose to view this affair, our action in venturing to beard him in his own apartment at the instance of a mischievous truant, on so bare a pretext, did indeed savour of folly and presumption. And Don Luiz was fain to take the same view of our conduct as his master, for, after collecting his wits with wonderful solemnity, he answered, “I consider, my lord, you will do well to hang them.” CHAPTER XV OF SOME FROWARD PASSAGES BEFORE THE DUKE “DON LUIZ,” said our young mistress, speaking with a sternness that was remarkably dignified, “you will do well to hold your peace. You are now dismissed from that high position which you have occupied so unworthily for I know not how many years. Your emoluments are reduced by one half, and even then, Don Luiz, your fees will be above your services. From this moment I myself, Don Luiz, am to occupy the room of first councillor to his lordship’s grace; for I have to inform you that matters of the greatest instancy are like to be toward, and it will need a bold heart, a firm will, and a ripe judgment to direct his affairs.” If the duke had been taken aback by the entrance of his daughter, his demeanour could not compare with that of his councillor when assailed by these calm words that were uttered so impressively. “Ods nig and nog!” cried the duke, “these are words, madam, these are words. Am I lived to seventy years and three to be browbeat in mine own presence by a rib out of mine own flesh! By my troth, I will have you scourged, madam; I will have you scourged. Take her away, Luiz, or I shall fall into such a passion that I shall say something grievous.” “My lord,” said the Countess Sylvia, “am I a cook-maid that I should be mentioned in this manner? Have I journeyed five days on an old horse, under the heat of the sun, to serve the grace of your lordship that I should be spoken to rudely by your lordship’s grace?” “Bah and pooh!” said the duke. “Get you away, you wicked hulks. Go, do you hear me, naughty one! Out of my sight, I say! As for these foul villains by whom thou art accompanied, such a tight string shall be drawn about their throats as shall cause them to fling up their heels in the air.” The Countess Sylvia, however, was undaunted by the choleric rage of his lordship’s grace. For she had a goodly anger of her own to set before him, which was accompanied by the stamping of her foot and exceeding large turbulent tears. “Out of my presence, spitfire!” said the duke. “My lord,” said the little countess, “I leave the presence of your lordship at no command save mine own.”