“I think, Sir Count,” said I, “the point is debatable. My father went in quest of her, yet did not find her, and I have not found her myself; but one of these days I will—I am determined upon it.”
“And when you have done so, dear Don Miguel, you will press her to your bosom, and she will melt in the air.”
After our supper (which, according to my taste, was of the most perfect kind), the Count of Nullepart drew a flageolet from his pocket and played a melody. It was very graceful, low-voiced, and melancholy, and being his own composition, was performed with the true delicacy of the amateur.
The hours chased one another away, for the Count of Nullepart had a full mind and spoke of many things. When there came a lull in our converse he would take up the flageolet again and improvise other melodies. Or he would call for the dice and throw a main for amusement’s sake, for I had nothing better than Babieca to wager, and with our northern caution I was unwilling to risk my all on a single cast.
I know not what hour of the evening it was, but it must have been hard by to midnight, when our curiosity, which hitherto had been wholly engaged with one another, was diverted by the arrival of a guest. My companion was improvising an air on his instrument, when something of a commotion was heard at the door, and to our surprise a lady without attendance stepped into the inn and called for the servants in a loud clear voice.
The manner of her entrance caused the Count of Nullepart to lay his flageolet on the table, and to regard the fair intruder with a curiosity equal to that she had awakened in me. Fair she was indeed, since we could discern enough of her face to tell us so much. She was both young and frail, hardly more than a child, and she was habited in a coarse grey riding-dress that was covered with dust. But she had a most proud and fearless face; and when the landlord came forward in answer to her summons, in spite of her plain and almost rustic attire, she addressed him with so much insolence that she might have been a queen.
“Fellow,” she said, “my horse hath a shoe cast. Put him to bed with some oats and good straw, and do you see to it that a smith is summoned at five of the morning. At six I go upon my journey.”
The landlord bowed with proper humility, and declared that he would attend her commands.
“That is well,” said she. “And do you bring me some food, for I have not broken my fast since an hour before noon.”
When the landlord had gone about these behests, she sank down on a settle in a condition of extreme weariness, threw down her whip petulantly, drew off her riding gauntlets, and flung them upon the floor.