‘Eh, madam, leave me my prisoners,’ he said; ‘and if you will but join the band, begad, I’ll be happy for life.’
‘You would spoil me, would you not?’ she asked.
‘I would try, I would try,’ returned the Governor, and he offered her his arm.
She took it, picked up her skirt, and drew him close to her. ‘I have come to see the Prince,’ she said. ‘Now, infidel! on business. A message from that stupid Gondremark, who keeps me running like a courier. Do I look like one, Herr Gordon?’ And she planted her eyes in him.
‘You look like an angel, ma’am,’ returned the Governor, with a great air of finished gallantry.
The Countess laughed. ‘An angel on horseback!’ she said. ‘Quick work.’
‘You came, you saw, you conquered,’ flourished Gordon, in high good humour with his own wit and grace. ‘We toasted you, madam, in the carriage, in an excellent good glass of wine; toasted you fathom deep; the finest woman, with, begad, the finest eyes in Grünewald. I never saw the like of them but once, in my own country, when I was a young fool at College: Thomasina Haig her name was. I give you my word of honour, she was as like you as two peas.’
