“Like not Edward?” exclaimed Lord Hunsdon in surprise. “Why, what caprice is this? He is a proper lad, and there is no other of the pages so trustworthy. Thou shouldst deem thyself fortunate to be put into his hands.”
“Marry, sir,” remarked Edward Devereaux with a sorrowful air, “’tis pity that my visage is so unattractive. If the boy is afeared,” with a slight emphasis on the word, “you would best place him with another. Fear makes cowards of us all, and breeds distrust of the most worthy.”
“Gramercy,” cried the girl hotly, “dost thou think that I fear thee, sirrah? Nay; my lord, I will take none other for my mentor than he. Mayhap while he imparts to me the nice customs of the court, he will in turn learn of me something he wots not of. Marry! we each have much to learn.”
“Tut! is this the way to begin?” said his 146 lordship impatiently. “Edward, I shall look to thee for a good report of thy charge.”
“It shall be well, sir,” returned Edward Devereaux bowing profoundly. The chamberlain left the two, and the boy faced the girl. “So,” he said, “we are come to learn manners, are we? By my faith, ’tis time. Thou dost discover too much heat, Master Stafford, and that, thou shouldst know, is not permitted at court. Take that for thy first lesson.”
“I will take naught for my lesson from thee,” said Francis quickly. “Who art thou to teach manners to me?”
“Hast never heard of Edward Devereaux?” queried the lad. “Much hast thou missed for he is before you,” and he bowed mockingly. “Know, Francis Stafford, that thou and I have a feud of long standing. Hast heard thy father speak of Sir Thomas Devereaux of Kent? I am his son, cousin german to Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex. Surely, even if thou dost reside far from the court, thou dost know that there hath always been enmity between the Devereaux and the Staffords?” 147
“Ay! I know of it,” assented Francis. “And that is why thou didst claim, the deer which was slain by my hand in the park?”
“So thou dost still claim the deer? Mark you, Francis Stafford! We of the court think it not honorable to claim that which doth not belong to us. Thou hadst no shadow of hand in the deed. It lies between thy sister and me. Yet still thou sayst,—‘I slew it.’ Hark ye! if ye so choose we can settle the matter in the great park some eventide. But for the sake of truth say no more that you slew it. It is between thy sister and myself.”
“My sister,” murmured Francis, and then remembering herself: “My sister be it.”