"What ho, varlets," he shouted, catching the spirit of the play, "bind yonder rascal and cast him from the castle wall."
"What," I cried, "hast no pity? Then listen, varlets, while I insult him who once was my dearest friend. Wouldst know what he looks like? Wouldst? He looks to me like one of those paper soldiers I used to shoot spit-balls at in my nursery."
"I do, do I?" shouted Nick. "For that thou diest."
But I refused to die easily, and he chased me all around the room until his long sword got ignominiously between his legs and sent him face downward to the floor. The noise brought the General upon us in a rage.
"Stop that, you—children!" he hurled at us. "Will you never grow up? Come to breakfast."
In the main hall of the castle the General stopped before the great picture of Nick's father in the scarlet uniform. I was struck with the likeness. There were the same large dreamy eyes that could become so terrible when the owner was angry. Except for the snow-white hair and the other usual signs of age, the man in the picture might be standing by my side. Every old person in the kingdom who was acquainted with the elder Fremsted would be sure to recognize Nicholas in that uniform to-day. The General beamed with happiness. He tarried in front of the picture after we entered the dining-room and I heard him say:
"I will do the best I can for you this day, old friend. But I shall also remember my oath."
The sun shone hot and the air was balmy as a spring day when, with Teju Okio at the wheel, we three friends set out for Nischon and the coronation. But, instead of beating high with pleasure at the thought of seeing a bit of barbaric royalty for which I had crossed the ocean, my heart was heavy in my bosom. Although I had no doubt as to who would be crowned king that day, knowing Solonika safe, I dreaded the ordeal she must pass through.
Marbosa would not give up without a struggle and some further attempt might be made in the interest of this mysterious scion of royalty, who permitted his friends to fight his battles for him, while he enjoyed himself elsewhere.
I remembered, too, the sight of Nicholas's face when he spoke of the sacrilege; the witch of Utrepect haunted me and I was afraid—afraid!