"He has some bad reason for concealing her, depend upon it; but then, cousin Philip, you know 'tis no business of ours."
"No—no—of course not," said I, coughing, to conceal the annoyance I felt at the idea of their being a liaison between my beautiful Spaniard, and that hideous Holsteiner in the bombasted breeches and calfskin boots.
"Ah, my faith!" I added, grasping my dirk, as my chagrin and perplexity broke forth—"to be supplanted by such a rival!"
"Ay, a handsome cavalier like you, Philip, by a great bombarde such, as Herr Otto!" continued Ian, laughing.
"I swear to you, by my existence, that I will cut his life short suddenly; for the fellow has laughed at me, and played the fool with me, too."
"Let the poor man alone! What right have you to molest him, or search out his secrets with a sword-blade; besides, we march for the camp in a few days, and then, Philip, come battles and sieges, the leaguer and storm!"
"But he has given me the lie."
"Dioul! that is true," said Ian, gravely; "I had forgotten that. He insisted so sturdily that you were mistaken, and that she was a Trold, and so forth. You must exchange a few passes with him, and rip up a yard of his great breeches, were it only to let a few pounds of bran out of them; or we might order Phadrig Mhor to fling him into the canal—but we will see about it to-morrow, when you come off guard."
Ian had soon to leave me for the place of arms, where the regiment was exercised according to the rules prescribed by the Scottish officers in Denmark and Sweden; for the king's orders, that we should be trained with the utmost expedition, were stringent, as his entire forces were soon to take the field against Count Tilly.
The day passed on.