"A little jest," the cloaked and masked man said, turning round to his companion; "a little jest. And the animal is by the side-door. Is this the truth?" re-turning his face towards the girl.
"Ah! monsieur. The truth! How can it be aught else—when—when the Prince of Csaba and Miranda Vitoria honours her with his admiration."
"Come," the man said to his companion now. "Come. We, too, will go round to the side-door and see this ardent lover—and, perhaps, punish his insolence. These English are insupportable. As for you—go to your Isidore, your coachman."
"Oh! non, monsieur, non! He will not come now. There will be no Isidore to-night. He is timorous. If he has seen monsieur, he will have shrunk away."
"Go then to your bed, and stay in it; and, above all, say nothing to the Princess of our being in this garden to-night."
"For certain, monsieur, otherwise I should have to say I was here too. Good-night, monsieur." Then, as the man turned to move away, she suddenly stopped him by catching the end of his cloak, and, thereby, forcing him to turn; he saying somewhat haughtily, "What is it, good woman? What?"
"Only that monsieur will not laugh at the poor Englishman, will not deride him. They cannot bear that!"
"No," the other said, "I will not laugh at him. Rely on me. There will be no laughing," and again he turned and went upon his way, accompanied by the other.
"You have done a fine thing for poor Giles," I said to the Princess, as now she rejoined me in the great salle. "A fine thing. I must get back to him at once and lend a hand if I would not find him hacked to pieces by those two cut-throats sent out by your precious Prince."