“Ods wounds! I do not want to slay the little tiger-cat,” he whined. “Take the dagger from her. You, sirrah, take the dagger from her, but I pray you do not hurt her.” The bearded warrior upon whom the duke called to execute this command seemed in nowise eager to enact a deed so delicate. “Stand clear, you paltry ruffian!” said the little countess. “If you so much as touch my sleeve I will stab you.” In good sooth a proper discretion was necessary. The eminence upon which her ladyship stood and her perfect valiancy rendered it work for a bold man to come near her. Again, there was her dagger to consider, also a keen pair of blades flanking her sacred person one on each side. It is easy to believe that such a situation was not without its humour. But for the three chief actors in this play, who stood shoulder to shoulder upon the daïs, it was grave indeed. “Sirrah, sirrah!” cried the duke. “You with your beard under your chin, down with her, I say! Take away her dagger; or must I stand in the presence of insubordination?” The soldier approached warily under the goad of the duke’s wrath, and came up to our platform, with his mouth open wide like a stuck bear. “Is there none that will heed me, Luiz?” cried the duke. “Is it come to this: must I conduct mine own business by mine own valiancy? Must I, sore smitten with the infirmity of my seventy years and three, take away this vixenish dagger with this ancient hand?” “You are stricken in years, my lord,” said his daughter; “you are speaking foolishly. Go you to bed, like a wise old man; the leech shall bleed you; and that fat fellow who is swollen like a goose at Michaelmas, shall read you a psalm.” “Ods mud!” cried her parent, spluttering himself into a state of incoherency, “will nobody pull her down? I ask you, will nobody pull her down? Will none obey me? Must I do it personally? Ods unicorns! must I correct her with mine own indignation?” Instead of advancing, however, to do his own business, the duke was content to whine and complain, like an old dog that is wishful to bite, yet is unable. And it was most curious to watch this foiled grandee look first at Don Luiz, his right hand, and then at the soldiers of his guard. But these showed no disposition to help him in his pass. None had the desire to offer violence to their youthful mistress, who had so much more of valour than their aged master. “Luiz,” cried the duke, “do you fetch that foreign man, that Sirrah Richard Red Dragon. He is the man to serve us. Ods myself! he will have no fear of three halfpence worth of bib and tucker, with a bit of steel to give it effrontery. Ods my good heart! he will not fear a minx and a wanton that is so rude as any jackanapes. Do you tell him to bring his stick along with him, Luiz; I will have her flogged in public for this. Ods my good soul! Luiz, I never was in such a passion before.” Don Luiz went forth on his new errand with great alacrity.