The blood crimsoned the potter’s face, and he drew up his form. Indignation glowed in his eyes, but curbing himself, he said with lofty reproach, ‘A lie, Cestus—that was well indeed.’
‘Nay, don’t fluster yourself, kinsman,’ continued the Suburan, with the utmost sang froid, ‘it was as good a tale to tell you at the time as any. It did you no harm, for you knew no better; nor did I dream that the necessity would ever come that you should. You were without a brat, so I thought you would be glad of this one. I handed it over to you as a stray helpless fledgeling belonging to nobody, and your mind has consequently never been uneasy.’
‘Well, and the truth?’
‘Did your mind never suspect as you looked upon the girl shooting up? Did you never wonder and say to yourself, what kind of poor swinkers were they from whom sprang such a brave slip? Why, it is the first thought which would have struck me, had I never known anything about her—a tall clean-made lass, like one of their goddesses in their temples. I have watched her, kinsman, these few hours—she has ripened just to what might have been expected. I have seen the turn and flash of her eyes, the working of her thoughts written plainly on her face—her whole bearing. Did they ever spring [pg 199]out of the den of work-a-day folks? No, her breed will show itself. Common homespun and ignorance cannot hide it from those that know it—but what can you know, Masthlion, of these proud aristocrats?’
‘Aristocrats!’ exclaimed the potter, springing from his seat. ‘This is another deception—another of your tales!’
‘That you will discover before very long, I hope,’ replied Cestus drily.
‘And her people yet live, say you?’
‘One at least—that will be quite sufficient.’
Masthlion dropped back into his seat with a suppressed groan. ‘Then if this be true I have indeed lost her!’ he said, and he buried his face in his hands.
‘’Tis nought to grieve over,’ remarked Cestus, shrugging his shoulders in contempt at his companion’s want of shrewdness; ‘on the contrary, you should be in a dancing mood with joy. You have reared up the youngster to as fine a filly as one could wish to see, and you may well expect to have your strong chest well lined—better than ever it was before.’