“Sir Nicholas, you have a brave spirit, and that I like in you. I have no need to take precautions, for you could never penetrate into Spain.”
“God be my witness, señor, I shall penetrate.”
“You must needs be forsworn, señor. At sea you may be a match for us, but how might you dare face all Spain in Spain itself?”
“I shall certainly dare, señor,” said Sir Nicholas calmly.
Don Manuel seemed to shrug his shoulders. “I see, señor, there is to be no ho with you. You may be but an idle boaster, or a madman, as they say—I know not. I could wish you were a Spaniard. There is no more to say.”
V
Don Manuel took an early opportunity of finding out, as he imagined, what were his daughter’s feelings. He asked her without preamble how she liked Sir Nicholas. God knows what the poor gentleman thought to get from her.
“Very ill, señor,” said she.
“I fear me,” said Don Manuel, closely watching her, “that he likes you too well, child.”
Dominica perceived that she was being tested, and achieved a scornful laugh. “Unhappy man! But it’s an impertinence.”
Don Manuel was entirely satisfied. Liking Beauvallet well enough himself he could even be sorry that his daughter had conceived so vehement a distaste for him. “I am sorry that he is what he is,” he said. “I could find it in me to like a man of his mettle.”
“A boaster,” said Dominica, softly scornful.
“One would say so indeed. But before we set sail, Dominica, methought you made some sort of a hero of him in your mind. You were always eager to hear tell of his deeds.”
“I had not met him then, señor,” Dominica answered primly.
Don Manuel smiled. “Well, he is a wild fellow. I am glad you have sense enough to see it. But use him gently, child, for we stand somewhat beholden to him. He swears to set us ashore in Spain, and madre de dios! I believe he will do it, though how I know not.”
The upshot of all this was to make Dominica curious to know Beauvallet’s plans. She tackled Master Dangerfield about it that very evening as he played at cards with her in the stateroom, and demanded to know what his general had in mind. Master Dangerfield professed ignorance, and was not believed. “What!” said my lady, incredulous. “I am not to suppose you are not in his confidence, señor, surely! It is just that you will not tell me.”
“Upon my oath, señora, no!” Dangerfield assured her. “Sir Nicholas keeps his counsel. Ask your question of him: he will tell you, I doubt not.”
“Oh, I desire to have no traffic with him,” said my lady, and applied herself to the cards again.
There came soon enough what she had hoped to hear: a bluff voice, a brisk tread, a laugh echoing along the alleyway. The door was flung open; Beauvallet came in, with a word tossed over his shoulder for someone outside. “Save you, lady!” quoth he. “Diccon, there is a trifle of business calls you. Give me your cards; I will endeavour.”
Dangerfield gave up his cards at once, and bowed excuses to the lady. As always, Beauvallet left her without a word to say. Truth to tell she was glad to have him in Dangerfield’s stead, but why could he not ask her permission?
He sat down in Dangerfield’s chair; Dangerfield, with his hand on the door, paused to say, smiling: “Doña Dominica hath all the luck, sir, as you shall find.”
“And you none, Diccon. I may believe it. But I will back myself against her. Away with you.” He flicked a card out from his hand, and smiled across the table at Dominica. “To the death, lady!”
Doña Dominica played to his lead in silence. He won the encounter at length. She bit her lip, but took it with a good grace. “Yes, señor, you win.” She watched him playing with the cards, and folded her hands. “I shall not pit my skill against yours.”
Sir Nicholas put down the pack. “Then let us talk a little,” he said. “It likes me much better. How does Don Manuel find himself?”
A shadow crossed her face. “I think him very sick, señor. I have to thank you for sending your surgeon to visit him.”
“No need of that.”
“My father tells me,” Dominica said, “that you have sworn to set us ashore in Spain. Pray, how may you accomplish that?”
“Very simply,” Sir Nicholas replied. He held his pomander to his nose, and over it his eyes twinkled at her.
“Well, señor, and how?” She was impatient. “I’ve no desire to witness another fight at sea.”
“Nor shall you, fondling. What, do you suppose that Nick Beauvallet would expose you to the risks Narvaez courted? Shame on you!”
“Señor, are you so mad as to suppose that you can sail into a Spanish port without a shot being fired?”
“By no means, child. If I did so foolish a thing I might expect a veritable hailstorm of shot about my head.” He threw one leg over the other, and continued to sniff at his pomander.
“I see, señor, you have no mind to confide in me,” said Dominica stiffly.
His shoulders shook. “Do I not answer your questions? You would know more? Then ask me prettily, O my Lady Disdain!”
Her eyes fell; she tried a change of front to see what might come of it. “You have the right to flout me, señor. I am aware that I stand beholden to you. Yet I think you might use me kindlier.”
The pomander fell. “Good lack!” said Beauvallet, startled. “What’s this?” He uncrossed his legs and stretched a hand to her across the table. “Let there be no such talk betwixt us two, child. Ye stand in no way beholden to me. Say that
