Lord Grey had lost his temper: but Raleigh kept his, and answered quietly—
“Her majesty shall at least not find me among the number of those who prefer her favor to her safety, and abuse to their own profit that over-tenderness and mercifulness of heart which is the only blemish (and yet, rather like a mole on a fair cheek, but a new beauty) in her manifold perfections.”
At this juncture Cary returned.
“My lord,” said he, in some confusion, “I have proposed your terms; but the captains still entreat for some mitigation; and, to tell you truth, one of them has insisted on accompanying me hither to plead his cause himself.”
“I will not see him, sir. Who is he?”
“His name is Sebastian of Modena, my lord.”
“Sebastian of Modena? What think you, gentlemen? May we make an exception in favor of so famous a soldier?”
“So villainous a cut-throat,” said Zouch to Raleigh, under his breath.
All, however, were for speaking with so famous a man; and in came, in full armor, a short, bull-necked Italian, evidently of immense strength, of the true Caesar Borgia stamp.
“Will you please to be seated, sir?” said Lord Grey, coldly.