CHAPTER XVIII
THE MOUNTEBANK AND MY LADY
"The Governor's daughter!" Had the light been stronger they must have seen the start the mountebank gave. "Impossible!"
"Eh? What?" Surprised in turn, the officer gazed at him. "You dare—out with him!" To the soldiers.
But in a moment had the mountebank recovered his old demeanor, and, without waiting for the troopers to obey the commandant's order, walked voluntarily toward the door and into the passage.
"Our supper! Our supper!" A number of the prisoners, crowding forward, began once more to call lustily, when again was the disk-studded woodwork swung unceremoniously to, cutting short the sound of their lamentations.
"Dogs!" Malevolently the dwarf gazed back. "To want to gorge themselves on a holy day!"
"Pious Jacques!" murmured the commandant. "But I always said you made a model landlord!"
"When not interfered with!" grumbled the other.
"At any rate he doesn't seem to appreciate his good fortune," with a glance at the mountebank.