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Updated: August 10, 2024
"Come, you Roundpoll," he continued "come, you Geneva mumbler, here is a cup for you to wash down the dust of your dry thoughts. Drink, I give you 'The King." Evander gazed steadfastly at the irate gentleman and made no motion to take the wine. Brilliana, from where she stood, watching him curiously, wrestled with a reluctant admiration of his carriage.
"It is for me, and for me only, to give orders here. This is my prisoner, and were he ten times a Roundpoll he should have honest handling." Sir Rufus would fain have protested, would fain have carried his point, but he saw that in the face of her whom it was his heart's desire to please which reduced him to sullen obedience. He shrugged his shoulders.
In this he was disappointed; Evander's draught wrought no havoc in his speech or demeanor; Halfman was more disappointed that the prisoner took so coldly his laudations of his lady. "The Roundpoll is so mad to be mastered by a woman that he has not enough gentility in his thin wits to spur him to a compliment." His hostile thoughts brewed in his heated brain-pan till their fumes fevered him.
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