Now beholding all the sweet and roguish witchery of her, the sun so bright and the world about us so joyous, what could I do but smile and, sweeping off my great hat, make her as deep and profound a reverence as ever was seen at Whitehall or Versailles.
"Madame," quoth I, "your ladyship's most humble and very obedient servant. I trust your ladyship hath breakfast ready, for of a truth my magnificence is mighty sharp set."
"O Martin," cries she, clapping her hands, "I vow 'twas most gallant! It needeth but for you to trim your hair and beard—no, I think I will have you clean-shaven, 'twill mind me of the boyish Martin of years ago! Yes, you shall shave—"
"Shave!" quoth I, staring like any fool.
"Yes, Martin, I have all things ready. Come, it shall not take you long, we will breakfast when you are shaved and trimmed." So, willy-nilly, she brings me back to the cave and presently comes bearing a gold-mounted box, wherein lay razors with soap and everything needful to a fine gentleman's toilet. Then she sets before me a gold-framed mirror, and taking a pair of scissors at her bidding I began to clip the hair from my face, but so bungled the business that she presently took the scissors and did it for me. Thereafter I shaved (awkwardly enough, and she mighty anxious lest I cut myself—the which I did!) and, having at last washed and dried my face, I stood all amazed to find myself so much younger-looking. Now, seeing how she stared at me, and with rosy lips all a-quiver, I smiled, then wondered to behold her eyes suddenly a-brim with tears.
"O Martin, you do look the same Martin after all!" says she and so away into the sunshine; yet when I presently joined her I found her blithe enough.
"Are you hungry, sir?"
"Ravenous, my lady!"
"Why then, here we have broiled fish—caught by my ladyship—salt, Martin! Butter—churned by my ladyship—and—bread, Martin! Bread baked by my ladyship's own two hands."
"O marvellous, sweet lady!" says I.