"He speaks French, this good lad?" he asked, turning to Claire.
"Yes, when it pleases him, which is not always—though indeed he always obeys me. Is it not so, Jock?"
"My name is not Jock! Nowise—as you well do know. I am called Blastus of the Zamzummims! Against all Armenians, Hussites, Papishers, Anabaptists, Leaguers, and followers of the high, the low, and the middle way, I lift up my heel. I am a bird of fair plumage on the mountains of Zepher. I fly—I mount—I soar——"
"Go and find four horses," said his mistress; "two of them good and strong, one Spanish jennet for me, one Flanders mare for yourself and the saddle-bags."
The Bird of Fair Plumage scratched his long reddish locks in a sort of comic perplexity.
"Am I to steal them or pay for them?" he said.
"Pay, of course," said his mistress, scandalised.
"That will leave our purse very light—the purse that was your father's. It were easier these days, and also more just to spoil the Egyptians. The lion-like man of Moab, which is the Duke of Guise, walketh about like the devil roaring (as sayeth Peter), and because of the barricades there are many good horses tied by their bridles at the gates of the city—masterless, all of them."
"Pay for them, do you hear?" said Claire; "do not stand arguing with your master's daughter. I thought you had learned that long ago."
Blastus of the Zamzummims went out grumbling to himself.