“In this chamber,” exclaimed De Noailles, startled. “I thought the man was desperately wounded and like to die.”
“It is true he is badly hurt, but he hath life enough in him to speak, as your excellency will find. He will be here anon,” observed Philip.
“But the scene will be disagreeable to me,” cried the ambassador. “I must crave your permission to withdraw.”
And without waiting for consent, he turned to depart; but D’Egmont and Alva planted themselves in his way.
“A prisoner,” he ejaculated, in consternation.
“Ay, a prisoner at his Highness’s pleasure,” rejoined Alva.
“I protest against such violation of my privilege,” cried De Noailles, with mingled terror and anger.
“You can claim no privilege,” rejoined the Duke, sternly. “You stated expressly that you came here as a private gentleman, and not as an ambassador. Back Sir, at your peril.”
Seeing there was no possibility of escape, De Noailles tried to assume a bold and unconcerned demeanour; but his nerves sustained another and yet severer shock as the door was thrown open, and a litter, the curtains of which were closely drawn, was borne into the room, under the conduct of Osbert Clinton. In attendance upon the wounded man was Malwood, the chirurgeon.
Behind the litter came Rodomont Bittern, and the four bearers were Rodomont’s friends, who had voluntarily undertaken the office, in order to be present at the examination.