“Very good, that will do, sergeant,” says the Viceroy. And they soon arrive at the country house.
But being a wary old tactician, my lord of Alva says nothing of the strange revelation that has come to him at the Fort at Lillo, and striding into Hermoine’s apartment, remarks: “My daughter, as we promised we have returned to see this gentleman you love, Guido Amati; who must be of wondrous strong frame.”
“How so?” asks the girl.
“He was desperately wounded at the Battle on the Ice.”
“I should think so! Haven’t I seen the wounds? They’re awful!” This last is a piquant shudder.
“Seen the pike wounds through his body?”
“No, but there was a cut upon his head that would have let out the life of any but a Paladin.”
“Humph! they say your Paladin is a dissipated fellow.”
“That’s a falsehood! some rival sends forth this story about him every time. Why, even at the house of Bodé Volcker,” goes on Hermoine, “that fibbing merchant told me he was drunk, when two seconds after my Guido strides up to me as sober as you are, and a good deal [[247]]happier looking, and not with that extraordinary benumbed expression that’s on your dear old face.” Here the girl kisses it.
“Tell me how you met him.”