Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
'What! is the animal thy property, fair cousin? He is more than I
bargained for.'
'He is mine, my lord, but I left him chained when I set out from Wyfern
this morning. That he got loose I confess I am not astonished, neither
that he tracked me hither, for he has the eyes of a gaze-hound, and the
nose of a bloodhound; but it amazes me to find him in the castle.'
'That must be inquired into,' said the marquis.
'I am very sorry he has carried himself so ill, my lord. He has put me
to great shame. But he hath more in him than mere brute, and understands
when I beg you to pardon him. He misbehaved himself on purpose to be
taken to me, for at home no one ever dares punish him but myself.'
The marquis laughed.
'If you are so completely his mistress then, why did you call on me for
help?'
'Pardon me, my lord; I did not so.'
'Why, I heard thee call me two or three times!'
'Alas, my lord! I called him Marquis when he was a pup. Everybody about
Redware knows Marquis.'
The animal cocked his ears and started each time his name was uttered,
and yet seemed to understand well enough that ALL the talk was about him
and his misdeeds.
'Ah! ha!' said his lordship, with a twinkle in his eye, 'that begets
complications. Two marquises in Raglan? Two kings in England! The thing
cannot be. What is to be done?'
'I must take him back, my lord! I cannot send him, for he would not go.
I dread they will not be able to hold him chained; in which evil case I
fear me I shall have to go, my lord, and take the perils of the time as
they come.'
'Not of necessity so, cousin, while you can choose between us;--although
I freely grant that a marquis with four legs is to be preferred before a
marquis with only two.--But what if you changed his name?'
'I fear it could not be done, my lord. He has been Marquis all his
life.'
'And I have been marquis only six months! Clearly he hath the better
right--. But there would be constant mistakes between us, for I cannot
bring myself to lay aside the honour his majesty hath conferred upon me,
"which would be worn now in its newest gloss, not cast aside so soon,"
as master Shakspere says. Besides, it would be a slight to his majesty,
and that must not be thought of--not for all the dogs in parliament or
out of it. No--it would breed factions in the castle too. No; one of us
two must die.'
'Then, indeed, I must go,' said Dorothy, her voice trembling as she
spoke; for although the words of the marquis were merry, she yet feared
for her friend.
'Tut! tut! let the older marquis die: he has enjoyed the title; I have
not. Give him to Tom Fool: he will drown him in the moat. He shall be
buried with honour--under his rival's favourite apple-tree in the
orchard. What more could dog desire?'
'No, my lord,' answered Dorothy. 'Will you allow me to take my leave? If
I only knew where to find my horse!'
'What! would you saddle him yourself, cousin Vaughan?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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