...but the Duke had a certain charm in that role:
There he is, eyebrows shaved, oriential bishop's mitre on his head, but he's still The Duke. Susan Hayward has just been captured, and The Duke is leering at her. She puts on her best injured-royalty demeanor: "And how does a leader of the Mongols [sneering] intend to keep a daughter of the Empire in the style to which she is accustomed?" The Duke,squinting (as if riding into the Asian sunset) leers: "By day, the pelts of my sheep shall keep thee warm...and by night, the heat of my body shall protect thee from the desert winds."