'And therefore the fitter to receive it, Chiffinch. There is nothing in nature so beautiful as the first blush of a little rustic between joy and fear, and wonder and curiosity. It is the down on the peach—pity it decays so soon!— the fruit remains, but the first high colouring and exquisite flavour are gone.—Never put up thy lip for the matter, Chiffinch, for it is as I tell you; so pray let us have
Mistress Chiffinch, more embarrassed than ever, again advanced towards the door of communication, which she had been in the act of opening when his Majesty entered. But just as she coughed pretty loudly, perhaps as a signal to some one within, voices were again heard in a raised tone of altercation——the door was flung open, and Alice rushed out of the inner apartment, followed to the door of it by the enterprising Duke of Buckingham, who stood fixed with astonishment on finding his pursuit of the flying fair one had hurried him into the presence of the King.
Alice Bridgenorth appeared too much transported with anger to permit her to pay attention to the rank or character of the company into which she had thus suddenly entered. 'I remain no longer here, madam,' she said to Mrs. Chiffinch, in a tone of uncontrollable resolution; 'I leave instantly a house where I am exposed to company which I detest, and to solicitations which I despise.'
The dismayed Mrs. Chiffinch could only implore her, in broken whispers, to be silent; adding, while she pointed to Charles, who stood with his eyes fixed rather on his audacious courtier than on the game which he pursued, 'The King—the King!'
'If I am in the King's presence,' said Alice aloud, and in the same torrent of passionate feeling, while her eye sparkled through tears of resentment and insulted modesty, 'it is the better—it is his Majesty's duty to protect me; and on his protection I throw myself.'
These words, which were spoken aloud, and boldly, at once recalled Julian to himself, who had hitherto stood, as it were, bewildered. He approached Alice, and, whispering in her ear that she had beside her one who would defend her with his life, implored her to trust to his guardianship in this emergency.
Clinging to his arm in all the ecstasy of gratitude and joy, the spirit which had so lately invigorated Alice in her own defence, gave way in a flood of tears, when she saw herself supported by him whom perhaps she most wished to recognise as her protector. She permitted Peveril gently to draw her back towards the screen before which he had been standing; where, holding by his arm, but at the same time endeavouring to conceal herself behind him, they waited the conclusion of a scene so singular.
The King seemed at first so much surprised at the unexpected apparition of the Duke of Buckingham, as to pay little or no attention to Alice, who had been the means of thus unceremoniously introducing his Grace into the presence at a most unsuitable moment. In that intriguing Court, it had not been the first time that the Duke had ventured to enter the lists of gallantry in rivalry of his Sovereign, which made the present insult the more intolerable. His purpose of lying concealed in those private apartments was explained by the exclamations of Alice; and Charles, notwithstanding the placidity of his disposition, and his habitual guard over his passions, resented the attempt to seduce his destined mistress, as an Eastern Sultan would have done the insolence of a vizier, who anticipated his intended purchases of captive beauty in the slave-market. The swarthy features of Charles reddened, and the strong lines on his dark visage seemed to become inflated, as he said, in a voice which faltered with passion, 'Buckingham, you dared not have thus insulted your equal! To your master you may securely offer any affront, since his rank glues his sword to the scabbard.'
The haughty Duke did not brook this taunt unanswered. 'My sword,' he said, with emphasis, 'was never in the scabbard, when your Majesty's service required it should be unsheathed.'
'Your Grace means, when its service was required for its master's interest,' said the King; 'for you could only gain the coronet of a Duke by fighting for the royal crown. But it is over—I have treated you as a friend—a companion—almost an equal—you have repaid me with insolence and ingratitude.'
'Sire,' answered the Duke firmly, but respectfully, 'I am unhappy in your displeasure; yet thus far fortunate, that while your words can confer honour, they cannot impair or take it away.—It is hard,' he added, lowering his voice, so as only to be heard by the King,—'It is hard that the squall of a peevish wench should cancel the services of so many years!'
'It is harder,' said the King, in the same subdued tone, which both preserved through the rest of the conversation, 'that a wench's bright eyes can make a nobleman forget the decencies due to his Sovereign's privacy.'
'May I presume to ask your Majesty what decencies are those?' said the Duke.
Charles bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. 'Buckingham,' he said, 'this is a foolish business; and we must not forget (as we have nearly done), that we have an audience to witness this scene, and should walk the stage with dignity. I will show you your fault in private.'
'It is enough that your Majesty has been displeased, and that I have unhappily been the occasion,' said the Duke, kneeling; 'although quite ignorant of any purpose beyond a few words of gallantry; and I sue thus low for your Majesty's pardon.'
So saying, he kneeled gracefully down. 'Thou hast it, George,' said the placable Prince. 'I believe thou wilt be sooner tired of offending than I of forgiving.'
'Long may your Majesty live to give the offence, with which it is your royal pleasure at present to charge my innocence,' said the Duke.
'What mean you by that, my lord?' said Charles, the angry shade returning to his brow for a moment.
'My Liege,' replied the Duke, 'you are too honourable to deny your custom of shooting with Cupid's bird-bolts in other men's warrens. You have ta'en the royal right of free-forestry over every man's park. It is hard that you should be so much displeased at hearing a chance arrow whizz near your own pales.'
'No more on't,' said the King; 'but let us see where the dove has harboured.'
'The Helen has found a Paris while we were quarrelling,' replied the Duke.
'Rather an Orpheus,' said the King; 'and what is worse, one that is already provided with a Eurydice—She is clinging to the fiddler.'
'It is mere fright,' said Buckingham, 'like Rochester's, when he crept into the bass-viol to hide himself from Sir Dermot O'Cleaver.'
'We must make the people show their talents,' said the King, 'and stop their mouths with money and civility, or we shall have this foolish encounter over half the town.'
The King then approached Julian, and desired him to take his instrument, and cause his female companion to perform a saraband.
'I had already the honour to inform your Majesty,' said Julian, 'that I cannot contribute to your pleasure in the way you command me; and that this young person is——'
'A retainer of the Lady Powis,' said the King, upon whose mind things not connected with his pleasures made a very slight impression. 'Poor lady, she is in trouble about the lords in the Tower.'
'Pardon me, sir,' said Julian, 'she is a dependant of the Countess of Derby.'
'True, true,' answered Charles; 'it is indeed of Lady Derby, who hath also her own distresses in these times. Do you know who taught the young person to dance? Some of her steps mightily resemble Le Jeune's of Paris.'
'I presume she was taught abroad, sir,' said Julian; 'for myself, I am charged with some weighty business by the Countess, which I would willingly communicate to your Majesty.'
'We will send you to our Secretary of State,' said the King. 'But this dancing envoy will oblige us once more, will she not?—Empson, now that I remember, it was to your pipe that she danced—Strike up, man, and put mettle into her feet.'
Empson began to play a well-known measure; and, as he had threatened, made more than one false note, until the King, whose ear was very accurate, rebuked him with, 'Sirrah, art thou drunk at this early hour, or must thou too be playing thy slippery tricks with me? Thou thinkest thou art born to beat time, but I will have time beat into thee.'
The hint was sufficient, and Empson took good care so to perform his air as to merit his high and deserved reputation. But on Fenella it made not the slightest impression. She rather leant than stood against the wall of the apartment; her countenance as pale as death, her arms and hands hanging down as if stiffened, and her existence only testified by the sobs which agitated her bosom, and the tears which flowed from her half-closed eyes.
'A plague on it,' said the King, 'some evil spirit is abroad this morning; and the wenches are all bewitched, I think. Cheer up, my girl. What, in the devil's name, has changed thee at once from a Nymph to a Niobe? If thou
