Читать книгу Cardinal Pole; Or, The Days of Philip and Mary. An Historical Romance онлайн

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“Sir Antonio is a court painter, and has doubtless flattered her,” said Rodomont. “By my beard! she is as thin as a whipping-post, and as sour as verjuice.”

This sally was followed by a shout of laughter from the party.

“Let me impress upon you the necessity of a little caution, Master Bittern,” said Osbert. “You seem to forget that Don Philip is attached to his Highness’s person.”

“But he is not going to marry the Queen, therefore the question of her good or ill looks can have no interest to him,” laughed Rodomont. “After all, tastes differ, and the Prince may think her Majesty charming, though I do not.”

“Are you allowed to talk thus freely of great personages in England, Sir?” demanded Philip, sternly.

“For the present we are, Señor Don Felipe, but there’s no saying what we may come to, now the Prince, your master, is about to take us in hand, and teach us manners. Ere long, we shall have a padlock placed upon our mouths, I make no doubt. They say we are to have the Inquisition, and an Auto-da-fé once a month to purge us of heresy, and bring back the stray lambs to the fold. What with the Prince, your master, and Cardinal Pole, who is shortly expected, we are likely to have a pleasant time of it. Familiars of the Holy Office will become too familiar with us, and after a few months passed in secret cells, with red-hot pincers and the rack for recreation, we shall be burnt alive in the market places, shrouded from head to foot in a san benito, as I have myself seen done in your delightful city of Seville.”