"Take something less holy to swear by," cried the Prince.
"Then, by the bones of the Faithful, I swear I meant to make you comfortable, even to my own deprivation."
"By thy young master's bidding?"
The Governor bent forward very low.
"Well," said the Prince, softening his manner—"the misconception was natural."
"Yes—yes."
"And now thou hast only to prove thy intention by making it good."
"Trust me, your Highness."
"Trust thee? Ay, on proof. I have a commission"—
The Prince then drew a ring from his finger.