“Now that is a fine carpet,” he was saying as he unrolled a piece of Flemish work. “It was made at Ispahan for the Shah of Persia and is the best bit of Persian carpet you will ever see. That would look well in my lady’s boudoir. I would let you have that for five florins.”
He did not seem very pleased at the master’s entrance at that moment; Richard Mowbray glanced at it and remarked, “But that is Flemish weaving.”
“Did I not say Flemish?” he said. “Oh, it is Flemish right enough; it was made for the Duke of Flanders.”
“And if I had said it was Tuscan I suppose it would have been made for the Duke of Tuscany.”
“Ah, master, you make mock of me; see, here, I have some buckles of chaste design that might take your fancy or these daggers of Spanish make, or what say you to a ring or a necklace for one of the ladies?”
“We have no moneys for gauds and vanities.”
“But beauty will not bide, and when you have the money it may be too late; you would not let it go ungraced. Prithee try these garnets on the Lady of Holwick. They would become her well, or this simple silver chain for the young mistress,” looking at Aline for the first time. “By my troth she is a beautiful child,” he exclaimed involuntarily.
“Ah well then, my friend, good wine needs no bush.”
“Nay, sweets to the sweet, and for fair maids fair things.”