Without more ado the Count of Nullepart rose from the table, and drawing his fine Spanish blade, fell on one knee before her. With the simple dignity of a princess, she held out her hand, and with charming humility the Count of Nullepart bore it to his lips.
“This is a good providence,” said she, with a bright colour in her cheek, “for never was a woman in such sore need of good servants.”
Immediately these words were spoken I also rose, and inspired by the count’s example, drew my sword, and offered my service also. She accepted them with beautiful grace and composure.
“I fear, my friends,” said she, “you will have arduous labours. I am beset with every difficulty, and I have a great work to perform.”
“Your servants will be the happier, madam,” said I. “They will not be wanting in the hour of need.”
Suddenly she rose with truly regal proudness, and looked at the Count of Nullepart and myself with earnest, questioning glances.
“Have you led armies, sir?” she asked of my companion.
“Ah, no, madam,” said he with an arch smile; “except in my own soul.”
“And you, sir, have you led armies?” she asked of me.
“No, madam,” I said, “I have yet to do so; but there are those of my name who have fallen in battle, and when occasion calls, may I stand true to my inheritance!”