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Updated: June 1, 2025
" Besides, you are miles away from Poictesme. You could not even manage to get there this afternoon." Manuel put his hand over her mouth. "Niafer, when I spoke of subjugating Poictesme this afternoon I was attempting a mild joke. I will never any more attempt light irony in your presence, for I perceive that you do not appreciate my humor. Meanwhile I repeat to you, No, no, a thousand times, no!
Such was the account which Dom Manuel rendered his wife. "And upon the whole, Niafer, I consider it a very creditable stroke of business, for as King of England the child will enjoy advantages which we could never have afforded him." "Yes," said Niafer, "and what does that dear friend of yours look like nowadays?"
For the appearance which Niafer now wore she found to be very little like that which Niafer remembered as having been hers, in days wherein she had been tolerably familiar with the Lady Gisèle's mirrors; and it was a grief to Niafer to see how utterly the dearest dead go out of mind in no long while.
Niafer began to weep. "I simply cannot bear to think of what people will say of you." "Come, come, my dear," says Manuel, "this is preposterous." Niafer wept. "You will only end by making yourself ill!" says Manuel. Niafer continued to weep. "My mind is quite made up," says Manuel, "so what, in God's name, is the good of this?" Niafer now wept more and more broken-heartedly.
And Manuel said, "Now assuredly, Horvendile, since that is your name, such talking is insane talking, and no comfort whatever to me in my grief at losing Niafer."
No, Manuel, no, I do not complain, but I do think that, after all I have been through with, sleeping around in tents, and running away from Northmen, and never having a moment's comfort, after I had naturally figured on being a real countess " Niafer whimpered sleepily. "Yes, yes," says Manuel, stroking her soft crinkly hair.
No; my life is very necessary to me, and there is a geas upon me to make a figure in this world before I leave it." "My dearest," says Niafer, "you have chosen wisely." The veiled horseman said nothing at all. But he took off his hat, and the beholders shuddered.
"It is the will of Miramon Lluagor that I forthwith demolish you both," says this serpent, yawning with a mouth like a fanged cave. Once more young Manuel had reached for his charmed sword Flamberge, but it was Niafer who spoke. "No, for before you can destroy me," says Niafer, "I shall have cast this bridle over your head." "What sort of bridle is that?" inquired the great snake scornfully.
Then they talked over this matter of getting babies, Manuel walking on the chalk line all the while, and Manuel found he could have, if he preferred it so, three girls in place of one of the boys, since the demand for sons was thrice that for daughters. To Niafer it was at once apparent that to obtain five babies in place of three was a clear bargain.
"There is no Mimir," he told them, "in Dun Vlechlan, or not at least in this peculiarly irrational part of the forest." "You lie," they said, "for even though you have hitched a body to your head we recognize you." They looked at Niafer, and all three laughed cruelly. "Was it for this hunched, draggled, mud-faced wench that you left us, you squinting old villain?
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