“Business of the state!” cried the duke. “I would have you to know, madam, that I am the business of the state. Ods myself! if I had my sword here I would spill some blood.”
In the violence of his anger the duke became so weak and incoherent that at last he fell to weeping like a child. And as he was thus engaged, and wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his rich silk doublet, Don Luiz had the misfortune to appear with twelve soldiers of the guard.
“Sirrah Red Dragon,” said the Countess Sylvia, turning to the English giant with a most masterful insolence, “as you value the command of my good lieges, I would have you see to it that they take that fat fellow, who is so beastly in his appearance that I hardly dare to give him a name, and do you have him placed in a strait jerkin. And do you see to it that he hath neither sack nor sugar, neither grease nor butter, nor pig, nor flesh of any kind, nor German forcemeat, nor any article of victual whatsoever that is likely in any degree to inflame his bulk.”
“I obey your command, madam and ladyship. I kneel at your feet,” said the English giant, making a mighty flourish. The next moment the unfortunate Don Luiz was marched forth, protesting violently, while the old duke, at the sight of this grievous affront to his gentleman-usher, fell to gnashing his teeth one moment and shedding tears the next.
“Where is my authority?” he cried out. “Am I without authority behind mine own door? Oh, this is grievous, this is grievous! I have a she-wolf for a daughter and she hath filled my old years with sorrow. Is there no manhood in Spain! Will none protect a parent from the machinations of a she-wolf? Do my goodly life and my clement nature go for nought? Is there no consideration for the aged, who are blind of eye, who are halt of their gait, who are smitten with ague and loss of their appetites? Is there no virtue in the whole of this wicked and ungracious world? Oh me, misery! I could weep till my poor soul was drowned in a flood of tears.”
“If your lordship’s grace will not bawl like an old bull under the moon,” said the little countess ruthlessly, “I will give you the leg of an ortolan. These are great matters we are pledged to consider, and if your lordship’s grace, which mops and mows like an old grey bear that hath no teeth to tear its dinner, intrudes upon our deliberations so unseasonably, we should do better to play at mumchance or to bite our thumbs. Go into a corner and eat a fowl, and leave this assembly to thwart the machinations of the rude Castilian.”
“Ay di me!” said the duke, “give me a wing then! This is a nice old age to be so maltreated. Is there no virtue in the whole of the world! Ay di me! I am the most misused parent in Spain. Give me a wing then, proud hulks, give me a wing; and ods my good heart, I will never be a parent again.”
His lordship’s grace being presently comforted with the carcass of an ortolan, sat himself down on a stool in a corner of the apartment and began to devour it fiercely. But hardly had the council resumed its deliberations, when Sir Richard Pendragon returned wearing a mien of high authority, and informed his mistress that a messenger was at the gate bearing a cartel from the Castilian.
“Do you admit him, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said she. “Let him be brought to our presence. We will hold speech with him.”
As the English giant went on this errand, the Count of Nullepart bent across the council board, and whispered in the ear of the Countess Sylvia, “Courteously, courteously, an it like your ladyship. Will madam deign to remember that many a deep wound hath been abated by a fair expression?”