Although I gave him a smile of courtesy, I did not accede to his request. For I had a lively recollection of his hand.
The arrival of the smiths put a term to our speeches. As soon as they began to seal up the door with screws and nails, the duke and Don Luiz, immured within, were moved to try it. Finding that with all their shaking and rattling they could not come out, they set up a most desperate hullabaloo.
“Their throats will wear a little sooner than this honest wood,” said our mistress sternly.
She then bade the smiths cease their hammering while she spoke his lordship’s grace and his fat companion.
“My lord,” she cried in her strong and clear young speech, “abate your old foolishness for the space of one minute. I do but intend to lock up your lordship’s grace for the term of two hours, while I have deliverance made of your authority. I would have you play a game at mumchance with your trusty fat man, while I muster your three hundred men-at-arms and swear them to my service. If your lordship’s grace will not babble so, and you will request that fat fellow whose bulk is so large as a bag, who is so undecent in his appearance as any sow that grouts in a kennel, if you will request him not to brawl so much, you will be able to pass the time of day agreeably, and without that excitement that is so inclement to the mind.”
“You speak like a physician, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart. “Your words are as choice as though you held a diploma from the College of Surgeons.”
“Aye, she speaks shrewd,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, wagging his beard in cordial admiration of this beautiful and masterful thing. “She is fit to advise a kingdom; one of these days she shall speak from a throne to her respectful parliament. My dear and intimate friend, the Dowager-Empress and Queen-Mother of the Austrian nation, never spoke better sooth than she; never spoke it with a better use of tongue and of language; never spoke it with a more subtle penetration of wit or a more lofty and wise demeanour. I speak thee fair, sweet ladyship and countess, and he who addresseth thee hath the blood of kings under his doublet, don’t forget that. By my sword, if thou wert but of the English nation, I would ask thine hand in matrimony, thou lovely chit, and Betty Tucker, a good wench who can handle a tankard as well as another at the sign of the Knight in Armour public-house, next the town of Barnet, in the kingdom of Great Britain, should hang herself in her shift or strangle herself in her garters.”
Much of that which followed of our conversation next the door of the duke’s apartment was drowned by the incessant beating and brawling upon the panel of those behind it. But the wood was staunch, and already the smiths had the most of it screwed up. When they had finished their task, and the Countess Sylvia was assured that his lordship’s grace and his fat companion could not possibly come out, she dismissed the smiths, and sent for the captain of the guard.
“Caballero,” she said to this worthy, “I would have you assemble immediately our three hundred men-at-arms. Have them drawn up in line of battle in the great courtyard, and let them appear in full accoutrement. For I am about to speak to them, and to swear each mother’s son to fealty upon the sword.”
“She speaks like a queen!” cried the English giant, with a roar of delight. “Betty Tucker, if thine ear doth not burn with jealousy as thou drawest that pot of small ale for that low jack pudding with a ring in his lug, thou art no true woman. Thou little knowest, good Bet o’ the Bib and Tucker—a weak jest, yet of mine own contrivance—thou little knowest the imminent danger of our banns that were asked five years come Maundy Thursday at St. Clement’s Church in London City.”