"Aye, hem," said he, "that's very well for the page of a princess. I suppose you have been studying the graces from your accomplished mistress? But where have you been all this while? I have felt the loss of you from my hand grievously."
"I have been waiting on my royal mistress, my lor', informing her of all that is going on at the siege, and of your good fortune in the late captures you have made, wherein she rejoices exceedingly, and wishes you all good fortune and forward success; and, in token of kind remembrance, she sends you this heart of ruby set in gold and diamonds,—a gem that befits your lordship well to wear. And many more matters she has given me in charge, my lor'."
Douglas kissed the locket, and put it in his bosom, and then uttered abundance of the extravagant bombast peculiar to that age. He called her his guardian angel, his altar of incense, and the saint of his devotion, the buckler of his arm, the sword in his hand, and the jewel of his heart. "Do you think, Colin," added he, "that ever there was a maiden born like this royal lady of my love?"
"Why, my lor', I am not much skilled in these matters, but I believe the wench, my mistress, is well enough;—that is, she is well formed. And yet she is but so so."
"How dare you, you piece of unparalleled impudence, talk of your royal mistress in that strain? Or where did you ever see a form or features so elegant, and so bewitchingly lovely?"
"Do you think so?—Well, I'm glad of it. I think she is coarse and masculine. Where did I ever see such a form, indeed! Yes I have seen a much finer limb, and an arm, and a hand too! What think you of that for a hand, my lor'?"—(and with that the urchin clapped his hand on the green table, first turning up the one side of it and then the other.)—"I say if that hand were as well kept, and that arm as well loaden with bracelets, and the fingers with diamond rings, it would be as handsome as your princess's, of which you boast so much,—aye, and handsomer too."
"You are a privileged boy, Colin, otherwise I would kick you heartily, and, moreover, cause you to be whipped by the hand of the common executioner. However, you are a confidant,—all is well from you; and, to say the truth, yours is a very handsome hand for a boy's hand,—so is your arm. But what are they to those of my lovely and royal Margaret?—mere deformity! the husk to the wheat!"
"Indeed, my lor', you have an excellent taste, and a no less gifted discernment!"
"I cannot conceive of any earthly being equalling my beauteous princess, whether in the qualifications of body or mind."