The Count of Nullepart had scarcely got through this prologue to his philosophy when little madam, his thesis, returned with a proud walk, wearing a steel cap that was so big that it fitted down over her ears, a corslet of the same complexion that fell down over her knees, while in her small hand was a piece of fine Toledo craftsmanship which yet could not be called too delicate for a lady. How she could stagger along at all under these accoutrements was a matter for surprise. Yet not only did she do so, but also she contrived to invest her gait with its natural dignity. At her side walked Sir Richard Pendragon, as near seven feet as no matter, while the peak of the little Countess Sylvia’s helmet appeared to ascend hardly above his leg. Yet, as in accordance with the Count of Nullepart’s prediction, they already seemed mighty close and pleasant with one another. “My friends,” said the Lady Sylvia, “I have duly appointed Sirrah Richard Red Dragon to the high office of master of my horse, captain-generalissimo of my three hundred men-at-arms, and captain of my guard, at an emolument of two thousand maravedis a month, including his victual.” “Three thousand, madam and ladyship, under your gracious pleasure and permission,” said the Englishman. “Did I say three, Sirrah Red Dragon? Dear, my good soul! my memory is weak. Well, Sirrah Red Dragon, three it shall be.” “To be disbursed in advance, worshipful madam and ladyship.” “So be it, Sirrah Red Dragon. Your first emolument shall be paid to you so soon as the master treasurer hath delivered to me the keys of the coffers of his lordship’s grace.” “And I crave the permission of your ladyship to suggest that sack be included in the terms touching the victual.” “Sack shall be included, sirrah.” “Unlimited and without stint, madam, I trow and trust, and to be delivered if I knock once on the buttery door.” “Yes, indeed, good Sirrah Red Dragon, that is quite understood.” The giant showed his teeth in a grin of broad humour and smacked his lips complacently. “Is there no post of honour in your household, madam, for the least of your servants?” asked the Count of Nullepart in his softest accent. “You will be keeper of accounts, sir, and also I will appoint you to the mastership of the treasury.” “I thank you, madam, and make you my service,” said the Count of Nullepart. “I have a mind to be master of the treasury myself, brother,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, pricking up his ears. “You shall be captain of the guard, brother, and I will take upon myself to hold the keys of the mint.” “Would you traffic in your office, Sirrah Red Dragon?” said his mistress sternly. “I have a mind to remove you from the position of master of my horse, and reduce your emolument by a thousand maravedis.” A threat of this gravity had an instant effect upon the Englishman, who fell to silence and the stroking of his beard; yet it was clear above all things he yearned to hold the keys of the mint.