And in the morning the Count of Grandnostrel called for his daughter. And his eyes were red with drinking, and his breath was thick, and he sat with his head between his hands. For he had drunk the bloodred wine sitting all alone through the night, laughing, as he quaffed down goblet after goblet, at the discomfiture of the lord of Mountfidget. “Rinderpest, indeed!” he had said. “He that cometh hither empty-handed is likely to return a-dry. Ho! there, butler! another stoup of Malvoisie, and let it be that with the yellow seal.” But in the morning he had called for a cool tankard, and now he demanded his daughter’s presence, that she might pour for him the cup which cheers but not inebriates. “Where is the Lady Euphemia? Why tarries the Lady Euphemia?” But the attendants answered him never a word. Then he called again. “Why cometh not my child to pour for her father the beverage which he loves? Now, by cock and pie, an that old greybeard detain her, he shall hence from the mullioned chamber⁠—and that with a flea in each ear.” But still they answered him not a word. Then he up with the tankard from which he had taken his morning’s brewst, and flung it at the menial’s head. “Thou churl, thou sot, thou knave, thou clod! why answerest thou not thy liege and lord?” But the menial put his hands to his bruised head, and still answered he never a word. + 

Then there entered Dame Ulrica, a poor and aged cousin of the house, who went abroad to dances and to tea-parties with the gentle Euphemia. “An please you, my lord count,” said dame Ulrica, “Euphemuia has fled this morning by the small wicket which leads from beneath the west barbican into the forest, and Alasco the Wise has gone with her.” + 

Then the Count Grandnostrel stood up in his wrath, and sat down in his wrath, and stood up in his wrath once again. “That tankard full of gold pieces,” said he, “to him who shall bring me the greybeard’s head!” + 

Then the archers twanged their bows, and the men-at-arms sharpened their sabres, and the volunteers looked to their rifles, and the drummers drummed, and the fifers fifed, and they let down the drawbridge, and they went forth in pursuit of the wise Alasco and the gentle Euphemia. + 

“By cock and pie,” said the Count Grandnostrel, “an it be as I expect, and that sorry knave from Mountfidget is at the bottom of this⁠—” + 

“In that case it will be meetest, my lord, that she should be his wife,” said the Dame Ulrica, who was riding on a palfrey at his right hand. And when she spoke the ancient virtue of the old race was to be seen in her eye, and might be heard in her voice. + 

“Thou sayest well, dame,” answered the count. + 

“And the lord of Mountfidget has beeves and swine numerous as the stars, and ready money in many banks,” said Dame Ulrica. For Dame Ulrica was not virtuous only, but prudent also. + 

“By cock and pie thou sayest sooth,” said the Count Grandnostrel. And as they had now reached the Fiery Nostril, a hostel that standeth on the hill overlooking the olive gardens of the castle, the count called loudly for the landlord’s ale. “By cock and pie this is dry work,” said the Count Grandnostrel. “But we will squeeze Mountfidget drier before we have done with him.” + 

Then the menials laughed, and the potbellied landlord swayed his huge paunch hither and thither, as he shook his sides with merriment. “Faix, and it is my lord the count is ever ready with his joke,” said the landlord. + 

So they paid for the beer and rode on. + 