"Duke," said Ludwig, "you have sworn to love this lady?"
"Love her?" reiterated Albany, ponderingly.
"Yes; whether she will or not."
"Whom do you mean?"
"Teufel! who but Murielle Douglas!" said Ludwig, with surprise.
"Oh, of course, I swore it," said Albany, suddenly seeming to remember.
"Ah, there are moments in life when a man swears anything to a woman so pretty," replied Ludwig, burying his red nose in his wine-pot.
To elude discovery, as he knew well that the soldiers of the Dyck Graf and the halberdiers of the burgomaster were somewhat solicitous about his movements, Count Ludwig had adopted a new disguise. He was dressed like an Italian fantasin, in a jacket and pantaloons formed of long stripes of cloth of the Douglas colours, and wore on his breast a scutcheon, charged with those three stars which formed the paternal coat of the earl, for one of whose followers he wished pro temp. to pass. For this purpose he had smoothed over his usual ruffianly exterior, cut off his long bravo lock of hair, and, to enhance the respectability of his appearance, wore a large rosary.
"We have met, duke," said he; "so to the point. What have you to propose?"
"Simply, that we must get rid of our troublesome lover," replied Duke Robert, mixing two kinds of wine, Burgundy and Alicant, and draining them at a draught.