Then the other, casting on a tragic air, said, “Alas for the decay of chivalry! In the old days it was not thus. Then no weak whim of fancied right e’er came between two loving hearts.”
Charles whispered to our hero’s followers, and then, having stepped into the room, they chorused, their voices, attuned by war and conquest, filling the place with harmony: “Your duty, sir, is very plain, and we are grieved that we should have to point it out: a marriage, as you are. A few years hence, and you will be the mighty king of some great land.”
Then Marmaduke shone forth in all his native nobleness. He reverently took Sauterelle’s hand in his own, but before giving the word to the priest he chanted: “In rank, in ti-tle, and in birth; in rich-es, age, and clime; in all things, thou surpassest me, O lovely Sauterelle.”
“Yea, even in height!” chimed in Père Tortenson.
“Proceed, sir priest,” said Marmaduke.
The plot was now, they supposed, at an end. It would be as well to consider its framers as boys again.
Henry did not wish to prolong the scene, and he whispered to Will: “This is as far as I dare go; but try to think of something—anything—to keep up the fun a little longer.”
Stephen pretended to be fumbling in the pockets of his robe. Turning to the Sage, he whispered imploringly, “Oh, George, can’t you ‘ventriloquism’ a little—ever so little?”
“The ghost!” George muttered. “Let us bring in the ghost!”