The French, as all travellers allow, are people of quick parts; and while they feasted and flattered us, it was plain to these gentlemen that we were other than we seemed. With all the courtesy possible, for even the Englishman could doff his brusque manners when it suited his humour, we declined to disclose a word of our embassy, contenting ourselves merely with inquiring whether the King was at Paris. It was our good fortune to learn that he was.
As the evening passed we felt ourselves to be the objects of a particular scrutiny. Our new friends grew most curious concerning us. After we had supped they asked us to take a hand at the cards. My two companions accepted this invitation; but I refrained from it because I was still very poor, and perhaps quite as conclusively because my northern breeding induces the virtue of caution.
No sooner had Sir Richard Pendragon and the Count of Nullepart begun to play than the interest of these gentlemen grew lively indeed. This was not so much aroused by the demeanour of the conqueror of M. du Bartas, but rather by that of the Count of Nullepart, who, in spite of his long beard and rustical Spanish, betrayed his true condition in unsuspected ways to those who were themselves high-born.
First, they observed his white and shapely hands as they lay upon the board. Again, there was the delicacy of his features, the natural politeness of his gestures; and yet again, they could not fail to detect the subtle and charming quality of the accent that lurked beneath his assumption of a rustical brogue. Thus it fell out that presently they came once more to confer among themselves, and then one of these gentlemen said with a most profound respect to the so-called Señor Fulano, “By my life, monseigneur, is not this a——”
Before this gentleman could conclude his remark the Count of Nullepart answered him in his charming natural speech and in the French tongue, “My good Clery, you are seldom prudent in the evening; and I am told it is entirely due to this misfortune of yours that you still remain without advancement. All the world knows that at Paris nowadays one must learn to see little and to speak less.”
No sooner had the gentlemen of the King’s Guard recovered from an astonishment which at first seemed to overwhelm them than they began to shout with laughter. For what reason they should thus view the matter I cannot explain; but from that moment a more formal air was imparted to the assembly. Something of ceremony declared itself, and the manner of all present became perceptibly less easy. Still this may in a measure have been due to the fact that these gentlemen put forth remarkable and in some cases highly ludicrous efforts to conduct their discourse in Castilian.
In one particular, however, our singular companion saw fit to rebuke them. They persisted in bestowing upon him the title of “Monseigneur,” so that presently he was moved to exclaim, “I pray you remember, my good friends, that I am neither more nor less than the worshipful Señor Fulano, worshipful kinsman to the worshipful burgomaster of the worshipful town of El Dorado. Beyond this I claim no title. And when the Señor Fulano comes among you to-morrow at the Louvre, which a conspiracy on the part of fortune has rendered necessary, I pray you not to call the honest person out of his true degree.”
Laughter and surprise greeted this speech; yet a kind of respect was paid to it, and during the rest of the evening they were careful to heed this request.
These gentlemen sat at their gaming far into the night. The play was high; gold pieces were numerous, being piled upon the table and exchanged freely. Also they drank an immense quantity of a very superior kind of red wine. Whatever the individual fortunes of the players, and of these I cannot speak, there was at least one among them who rose from the board considerably richer in the things of this world than when he sat down at it. I allude to Sir Richard Pendragon. Both the Count of Nullepart and myself were fain to observe that, whenever it came to the Englishman’s turn to take the dice in hand, quite as often as not he would have the singular good fortune to cast the double six.