The charcoal-burner, when all was made fast, set his team in motion.
Man, woman, and asses, they ambled off down the green alley towards
the middle holds of Morgraunt.
Prosper and his men, lords of those parts, went on their way home to
High March. The men disposed in their lodging, Prosper himself rode
under the gateway of the castle, crossed the drawbridge, and entered
the courtyard amid the mock salutes of the grinning servants. Full of
thought as he was, vexed at his check, curiously desiring to see
Isoult again (who had such believing eyes!), he took no heed of all
this, but dismounting, called for his page. At this there was a hush,
as when the play is to begin. Then Master Porges, the seneschal,
solemnly awaiting him, solemnly blinked at him, and cleared his throat
for a speech.
"Messire," he said, "Messire, to call for a page is an easy matter,
but to answer for a page is a difficult matter." He loved periphrasis,
the good Porges.
"What do you mean by that, my dear friend?" said Prosper blandly,
defying periphrasis.
"Messire," went on Master Porges, hard put to it, "to answer you were
to defile the tongue God hath given me for her ladyship's service. To
obey is better than sacrifice. Her present obedience is that I should
request your presence in the ante-chamber the instant of your
appearing before these halls."
"You will do me the honour, seneschal," said Prosper, growing polite,
"to answer my question first."
"I will send for the girl Melot, Messire," answered Master Porges.
"You shall send for whom you please, my friend, but you shall answer
my question before you move from that step."
The seneschal did not move from the step. He sent a loiterer to fetch
Melot from the kitchen, while Prosper waited, the centre of an
entranced crowd.
"Ah, the suffering maid!" cried the seneschal as he saw Melot near at
hand. "My maid, you must speak to Messire in answer to a question he
put me but a few minutes since. Messire, my girl, asked for his page."
Melot's heart began to thump. The steel demigod was before her, she
unprepared. The fire was laid, but wanted kindling. Prosper kindled it
for his own consuming.
"Pray what has this woman to do here?" he asked.
"Woman indeed!" rounded Melot, breathing again. "Woman! do you call me
names, Messire? Keep them for the baggage you fetched in!"
Prosper saw the whole thing in a flash. He grew still more polite.
"Seneschal," he said, "have the goodness to inform your mistress of my
coming. Pray that I may wait upon her immediately.... I think," he
added after a pause, "I think that you had better go at once."
The seneschal agreed that he had. He went.