"We count among our friends, sir, none who have secured their own safety."
"Faith, I might have guessed you were short of friends when you turned to me," replied Rupert, with a sneer.
"Sir," answered Richard, boldly, "you yourself taught us in the wars that 'tis better to trust to a noble enemy than to an unworthy friend!"
"Ha! well answered. Faith! I dare be sworn you have seen service; but, my good enemy," continued Rupert, in a perceptibly milder tone, "'tis not now war-time, and we soldiers have no say in matters of civil justice."
The change in the prince's voice encouraged Dick to make another effort.
"There can be no matter in which your Highness has not a say," he urged.
"Thinkst thou so?" answered Rupert, with a keen glance at the handsome and soldierly figure of the young man. "Now, sir, I warrant you know by experience that a broadsword is a good enough thing to have in your fist on the field of battle; but, the war over, 'tis neither fit for a lady's chamber nor for a courtier's duello; 'tis but a commodity of rusty iron to fling in the lumber-room."
"Sir," cried Dick, with a gleam of comprehension that almost amounted to reverence, "that may be London fashion; we country folk hang the broadsword in the place of honour, and account it the prime treasure of the house."
Rupert smiled. "Those be fashions of another time," he said. "Take the counsel of your preachers, and beat your sword into a pruning-hook, my good youth, else it will be apt to cut your fingers. Under whom have you served?"
"Under General Monck in Scotland, your Highness."