“An it please you, Sirrah Red Dragon, I—I will wed the froward prince.”
Without permitting her unhappiness to stray away to him to whom this resolve was published, she summoned to her side the royal captive with an air that was ineffable.
The King, who was only too well acquainted with all that had passed, for it was of the highest significance to Castile and to himself, came forward at his youthful cousin’s behest.
“Froward prince,” said the Countess Sylvia, speaking with a sweet broken gentleness which yet seemed to proclaim a wide dominion of the soul, “your crime is forgot. The halters are taken from the throats of your ministers. Your treasuries are given back to you; and with them is given my good pleasure.”
With a cheek the colour of snow, our mistress held forth her slender jewelled fingers to him of Castile. Yet at first the King made no sign, perhaps for bewilderment or perhaps for shame. And then, slowly and modestly, with a humility in all his gestures, with a pure and noble fire in his eyes, he knelt before her and bowed his head.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.