However, I have complete confidence in
your escort.
BRASSBOUND (almost threateningly). Take care. The avenger may be
one of the escort.
SIR HOWARD. I have already met the only member of your escort who
might have borne a grudge against me, Captain; and he was
acquitted.
BRASSBOUND. You are fated to come, then?
SIR HOWARD (smiling). It seems so.
BRASSBOUND. On your head be it! (To Lady Cicely, accepting her
hand at last) Goodnight.
He goes. It is by this time starry night.
ACT II
Midday. A roam in a Moorish castle. A divan seat runs round the
dilapidated adobe walls, which are partly painted, partly faced
with white tiles patterned in green and yellow. The ceiling is
made up of little squares, painted in bright colors, with gilded
edges, and ornamented with gilt knobs. On the cement floor
are mattings, sheepskins, and leathern cushions with geometrical
patterns on them. There is a tiny Moorish table in the middle;
and at it a huge saddle, with saddle cloths of various colors,
showing that the room is used by foreigners accustomed to chairs.
Anyone sitting at the table in this seat would have the chief
entrance, a large horseshoe arch, on his left, and another saddle
seat between him and the arch; whilst, if susceptible to
draughts, he would probably catch cold from a little Moorish door
in the wall behind him to his right.
Two or three of Brassbound's men, overcome by the midday heat,
sprawl supine on the floor, with their reefer coats under their
heads, their knees uplifted, and their calves laid comfortably on
the divan.
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