“The eagle,” said the expounder of dark sayings, “is the cognizance of our noble lord the Archduke—of his royal Grace, I would say—and the eagle flies the highest and nearest to the sun of all the feathered creation.”
“The lion hath taken a spring above the eagle,” said Conrade carelessly.
The Archduke reddened, and fixed his eyes on the speaker, while the SPRUCH-SPRECHER answered, after a minute's consideration, “The Lord Marquis will pardon me—a lion cannot fly above an eagle, because no lion hath got wings.”
“Except the lion of Saint Mark,” responded the jester.
“That is the Venetian's banner,” said the Duke; “but assuredly that amphibious race, half nobles, half merchants, will not dare to place their rank in comparison with ours.”
“Nay, it was not of the Venetian lion that I spoke,” said the Marquis of Montserrat, “but of the three lions passant of England. Formerly, it is said, they were leopards; but now they are become lions at all points, and must take precedence of beast, fish, or fowl, or woe worth the gainstander.”
“Mean you seriously, my lord?” said the Austrian, now considerably flushed with wine. “Think you that Richard of England asserts any pre-eminence over the free sovereigns who have been his voluntary allies in this Crusade?”
“I know not but from circumstances,” answered Conrade. “Yonder hangs his banner alone in the midst of our camp, as if he were king and generalissimo of our whole Christian army.”
“And do you endure this so patiently, and speak of it so coldly?” said the Archduke.
“Nay, my lord,” answered Conrade, “it cannot concern the poor Marquis of Montserrat to contend against an injury patiently submitted to by such potent princes as Philip of France and Leopold of Austria. What dishonour you are pleased to submit to cannot be a disgrace to me.”