“Nay, by the soul of a nice mother,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, “this is but a moiety of what her good son would ask you. Having received the life of John Castilian, he would ask your permission, madam, that in some sort he may punish him, for you need not to be told that his crimes are many and abominable.”
“As you say, Sirrah Red Dragon, his crimes are many and abominable,” said the Countess Sylvia. “I would indeed have you punish him. I would have you punish him with all possible rigour.”
Speaking thus, she gazed at the unfortunate prince with a power of resentment that he, who was true to his degree, met with a calm indifferency.
“All possible rigour,” said Sir Richard Pendragon softly, “is indeed the best part of the design of your old honest servant. And to that end, madam, I would ask to deliver John Castilian to you again in order that you may bestow this dreadful rigor upon him.”
“It is well, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said his mistress. “In this you are wise. We shall know in what sort to visit the spawn of darkness and bloody-minded prince.”
“And yet, madam,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, “by the grace of your ladyship is it not left to old honest Dickon to nominate the weapons of your severity?”
“Pray do so, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said madam with a courteous indulgence. “But perhaps you will not omit to weigh the efficacy upon delicate flesh of hot sharp-pointed nails? And also of hard pieces of rock upon the sensitive limb bones?”
“Nay, madam,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, “a good mother’s son forgets not the efficacy of these honest things; yet, under the favour of your ladyship, if he is minded to speak out of his ripe observation, this elderly seeker after virtue would venture to recommend an even more dreadful rigour, a rigour even more salutary.”
“By every manner of means, Sirrah Red Dragon, I would have you recommend it.”
As the Countess Sylvia spoke she fixed another remorseless glance upon the unhappy prince.