“Girl?” quoth I. “What girl? Am I a mother-abbess, that you should set me such a question?”
Two dark lines showed between his brows. His voice quivered with passion.
“I ask you again—where is the girl?”
I laughed like one who is a little wearied by the entertainment provided for him.
“Here be no girls, Messer del’ Orca,” I answered him in the same tone. “Nor can I think what this babble of girls portends.”
My seeming innocence, and the assurance with which I maintained the expression of it, whispered a doubt into his mind. He released me, and turned upon his men, a baffled look in his eyes.
“Was not this the party?” he inquired ferociously. “Have you misled me, beasts?
“It seemed the party, Illustrious,” answered one of them.
“Do you dare tell me that ‘it seemed’?” he roared, seeking to father upon them the blunder he was beginning to fear that he had made. “But—What is the livery of these knaves?
“They wear none,” someone answered him, and at that answer he seemed to turn limp and lose his fierce assurance.