Whereto he, being well tippled with wine, framing the most lovely countenance he might, made answer, “I doubt not but to-night, madam, thou shalt be well advised to choose that highest condition, and till to-day unknown, which I shall proffer thee: to be Queen of Demonland.”
She thanked him in her best manner, but said she was minded to forgo that supposedly pleasing eminence.
“How?” said he. “Is it too little a thing for thee? Or is it as I think, that thou laughest?”
She said, “My lord, it should little beseem me that am of the seed of men of war since long generations to trap my mind with the false shows of a greatness that is gone. Yet I pray you forget not this: the dominion of the Demons hath used to soar a pitch above common royalty, and like the eye of day regarded kings from above. And for this style of Queen thou offerest me, I say unto thee it is an addition I desire not, who am sister unto him that writ that writing above the gate that all ye had tasted the truth thereof had he been here to meet with you.”
Corinius said, “True it is, some have out-bragged the world, yet I ere this have used them like knaves. My jack-boot hath known things in Carcë, madam, I’ll not gall thy heart to tell thee of.” But perceiving a great lowe of disdainful anger blaze in Mevrian’s eye, “Cry you mercy,” said he, “incomparable lady; this was beside the mark. I would not sully our new friendship with memories of—— Ho there! a chair beside me for the Queen.”
But Mevrian made them set it on the far side of the board, and there sat her down, saying, “I pray thee, my Lord Corinius, unsay that word. Thou knowest it dislikes me.”
He looked on her in silence for a minute, leaned forward across the board, his lips parted a little and between them his breath coming and going thick and swift. “Well,” he said, “sit there, and it like thee, madam, and manage my delights by stages. Last year the wide world betwixt us: this year the mountains: yestereve Krothering walls: to-night a table’s breadth: and ere night be done, not so much as——”
Gro saw the wild-deer look in Lady Mevrian’s eyes. She said, “This is talk I have not learned to understand, my lord.”
“I shall learn it thee,” said Corinius, his face aflame. “Lovers live by love as larks by leeks. By Satan, I do love thee as thou wert the heart out of my body.”
“My Lord Corinius,” said she, “we ladies of the north have little stomach for these fashions, howe’er they commend them in waterish Witchland. If thou’lt have my friendship, bring me service therefor, and that in season. This is no fit table-talk.”