“No, I went as cavalier to a great court lady!” laughs the English sailor. “For it I am to be promoted to a colonelship in Romero’s musketeers!”
“Impossible! Tell me your story!”
“I will,” says Guy, “it contains the business that brought me to Antwerp.”
“Yes,” answers the other, meditatively, “your business must be of the greatest importance to make you again take this risk.”
“It is for the same old reason—my Queen!” whispers Guy; “Is there no one about?”
“No; Achille, my apprentice, I have sent out on a long errand, as I expected your coming and wanted to have private converse.”
“What long errand?”
“I sent him out to buy wine, bread, provisions, cheese, beef, on credit. Achille is an active boy, if I had given him the money he would have been back in half an hour.” Then carefully barring the door and drawing a heavy curtain over it, Oliver says: “Tell me your story.”
“Then can you interpret these letters bearing, I think, upon the welfare, yes, the life, of my sovereign?” whispers the Englishman. And producing the packet wrapped in oiled silk which he had taken from the body of the drowned Italian the evening before, Guy tells the artist the curious story of the preceding night. His recital is punctuated by vivacious exclamations of surprise, deep interest, and several times by uproarious laughter from his Flemish listener.
As the Englishman finishes the painter takes up the conversation.