As I ate and drank, I smiled at the strangeness of my fortunes--to come thus straight from the wild seas and the company of outlaws into a place of silver and damask and satin coats and lace cravats and orderly wigs.

The soft hum of gentlefolks' speech was all around me, those smooth Virginian voices compared with which my Scots tongue was as strident as a raven's.

But as I listened, I remembered Ringan and Lawrence, and, "Ah, my silken friends," thought I, "little you know the judgment that is preparing.
Some day soon, unless God is kind, there will be blood on the lace and the war-whoop in these pleasant chambers." Then a voice said louder than the rest, "Dulcinea will sing to us.

She promised this morning in the garden." At this there was a ripple of "Bravas," and presently I heard the tuning of a lute.

The low twanging went on for a little, and suddenly I was seized with a presentiment.