“And this is a fair manor,” said the Englishman, “and Richard Pendragon, knight, has a crow to pluck with the Castilian.”
This speech caused the Lady Sylvia to train the glance of a hawk upon the Englishman.
“My good Sirrah Red Dragon,” said she, “by the same token I am inclined to remember that our nephew France hath also a crow to pluck with the Castilian.”
At these words the Count of Nullepart rose from the council board with some little perturbation.
“Your nephew France, madam,” he said. “Your nephew France.”
Madam perused the Count of Nullepart’s countenance with a surprised inquiry.
“Sir Count,” said she, “I mentioned my nephew France. Have you the acquaintance of France, our worthy nephew?”
“Yes, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart with something of embarrassment, “that is, I mean no—that is, I mean—”
“What is the substance of your meaning, Sir Count?” said madam with petulance.
“It has no substance, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart.