“Nor have I. But one of my friends has; and I think I can promise you fair hospitality in it—by proxy. Besides, that little hole I’ve made in your hand—sorry at having made it—needs looking to without delay, and my friend has some skill as a surgeon. I could offer some other inducements that might help in deciding you—as, for instance, a pair of pretty faces to see. But coming from the Court of Queen Henriette, with her galaxy of grand dames, perhaps you’ve had a surfeit of that sort of thing.”
The young courtier shifted uneasily in his saddle, a slight blush coming over his cheeks, as though the words rather gave him pain.
“If not,” continued Sir Richard, without heeding these indices of emotion, “I can promise to show you something rare in the way of feminine beauty. For that I’ll back Sabrina and Vaga against all your maids of honour and court ladies—the Queen included—and win with either.”
“Sabrina! Vaga! Singular names! May I ask who the ladies are?”
“You may do more—make their acquaintance, if you consent to my proposal. You will?”
“Sir Richard, your kindness overpowers me. I am at your service every way.”
“Thanks! Let us on, then, without delay. We’ve yet full five miles of road before us, ere we can reach the cage that holds this pair of pretty birds. Allons!”
At which he gave his horse the spur, Trevor doing the same; and once more the two rode side by side; but friendly now—even to affection.