"Thou art a stranger among us, unaccustomed to our ways, unversed in knightly practice—so much so that there are many who doubt thy claims to knighthood. Yet thou art a brave man, or else a very simple one, or thou wouldst never have chosen to meet Sir Malud with sword and buckler, for he be skilled with these while thou art clumsy with them.
"Because I thinkest that thou goest to thy death tomorrow I have brought thee aside to speak with thee."
"What can be done about it now?" asked Blake.
"Thou art passing fair with thy lance," she said, "and it is still not too late to change thy selection of weapons. I beg thee to do so."
"You care?" he asked. There can be a world of meaning in two words.
The girl's eyes dropped for an instant and then flashed up to his and there was a touch of hauteur in them. "I am the daughter of the Prince of Nimmr," she said. "I care for the humblest of my father's subjects."
"I guess that will hold you for a while, Sir James," thought Blake, but to the girl he said nothing, only smiled.
Presently she stamped her foot. "Thou hast an impudent smile, sirrah!" she exclaimed angrily. "Meliketh it not. Then thou art too forward with the daughter of a prince."
"I merely asked you if you cared whether I was killed. Even a cat could ask that."
"And I replied. Why then didst thou smile?"