CHAPTER XII
_Beau Adair is my name._
The room was not long vacant. The hostess herself returned. She wasradiant.
As she crossed the threshold, she glanced back proudly at the revellers,who, led by his Majesty, were turning night into day with theirmerry-making. She had the right, indeed, to be proud; for the evening,though scarce half spent, bespoke a complete triumph for herentertainment. This was the more gratifying too, in that she knew thatthere were many at court who did not wish the "imported" Duchess, asthey called her, or her function well, though they always smiled sweetlyat each meeting and at each parting and deigned now to feast beyond thelimit of gentility upon her rich wines and collations.
The _bal masque_, however, as we have seen, was with the Duchessbut a means to an end. She took from the hand of a pretty page thetreaties, lately re-drawn by Bouillon, and glanced hastily over theparchments to see that her instructions from Louis were covered by theirwords. A smile played on her arching lips as she read and re-read andrealized how near she was to victory.
"'Tis Portsmouth's night to-night!" she mused. "My great mission toEngland is nearly ended. Dear France, I feel that I was born for thyadvancement."
She seated herself by the table, where the materials for writing hadbeen placed, and further dwelt upon the outcome of the royal agreements,their contingencies and triumphs. She could write Charles Rex almost aswell as the King, she thought, as her eye caught the places left for hissignature.
"Bouillon never fails me," she muttered. "Drawn by King Charles'sconsent, except perchance some trifling articles which I have hadinterlined for Louis's sake. We need not speak of them. It would betroublesome to Charles. A little name and seal will make these papershistory."
Her reflections were interrupted by the return of Buckingham, who waslaughing so that he could scarcely speak.
"What is 't?" she asked, petulantly.
"The guard have stayed but now a gallant, Irish youth," replied he, asbest he could for laughter, "who swore that he had letters to yourhighness. Oh, he swore, indeed; then pleaded; then threatened that hewould fight them all with single hand. Of course, he won the ladies'hearts, as they entered the great hall, by his boyish swagger; but notthe guards. Your orders were imperative--that none unbidden to the ballcould enter."
"'Tis well," cried Portsmouth. "None, none! Letters to me! Did he sayfrom whom?"
"He said," continued Buckingham, still laughing, "that he was underorders of his master to place them only in the Duchess's hands. Oh, heis a very lordly youth."
The Duke throughout made a sad attempt at amusing imitations of thebrogue of the strange, youthful, Irish visitor who, with so muchimportunity, sought a hearing.
Portsmouth reflected a moment and then said: "I will see him,Buckingham, but briefly."
Buckingham, not a little surprised, bowed and departed graciously toconvey the bidding.
The Duchess lost herself again in thought. "His message may haveimport," she reflected. "Louis sends strange messengers ofttimes."
In the midst of her reverie, the tapestry at the door was again pushedback, cautiously this time, then eagerly. There entered the prettiestspark that ever graced a kingdom or trod a measure.
It was Nell, accoutred as a youth; and a bold play truly she was making.Her face revealed that she herself was none too sure of the outcome.
"By my troth," she thought, as she glanced uncomfortably about the greatroom, "I feel as though I were all breeches." She shivered. "It is sucha little way through these braveries to me."
Her eyes turned involuntarily to the corner where Portsmouth sat, nowdreaming of far-off France.
"The Duchess!" her lips breathed, almost aloud, in her excitement. "Soyou'd play hostess to his Majesty," she thought, "give a royal ball andleave poor Nelly home, would you?"
The Duchess was conscious only of a presence.
"_Garcon!_" she called, without looking up.
Nell jumped a foot.
"That shook me to the boots," she ejaculated, softly.
"_Garcon!_" again called the impatient Duchess.
"Madame," answered Nell, fearfully, the words seeming to stick in herfair throat, as she hastily removed her hat and bethought her that shemust have a care or she would lose her head as well, by forgetting thatshe was an Irishman with a brogue.
"Who are you?" asked Portsmouth, haughtily, as, rising, with surprisedeyes, she became aware of the presence of a stranger.
Indeed, it is not strange that she was surprised. The youth who stoodbefore her was dressed from top to toe in gray--the silver-gray whichlends a colour to the cheek and piquancy to the form. The dress was ofthe latest cut. The hat had the longest plume. The cloak hung gracefullysave where the glistening sword broke its falling lines. The boots wereneat, well rounded and well cut, encasing a jaunty leg. The dress wasedged with silver.
Ah, the strange youth was a love, indeed, with his bright, sparklingeyes, his lips radiant with smiles, his curls falling to his shoulders.
"Well," stammered Nell, in awkward hesitation but in the richest brogue,as the Duchess repeated her inquiry, "I'm just I, madame."
The Duchess smiled despite herself.
"You're just you," she said. "That's very clear."
"Yes, that's very clear," reiterated Nell, still fearful of her ground.
"A modest masker, possibly," suggested Portsmouth, observing the youth'sembarrassment and wishing to assist him.
"Yea, very modest," replied Nell, her speech still stumbling, "almostashamed."
Portsmouth's eyes looked sharply at her.
"She suspects me," thought Nell, and her heart leaped into her throat."I am lost--boots and all."
"Your name?" demanded the Duchess again, impatiently.
For the life of her Nell could not think of it.
"You see," she replied evasively, "I'm in London for the first time inmy present self, madame, and--"
"Your name and mission, sir?" The tone was imperative.
Nell's wits returned to her.
"Beau Adair is my name," she stammered, "and your service my mission."
It was out, though it had like to have choked her, and Nell was moreherself again. The worst she had feared was that the Duchess mightdiscover her identity and so turn the tables and make her thelaughing-stock at court. She grew, indeed, quite hopeful as she observeda kindly smile play upon the Duchess's lips and caught the observation:"Beau Adair! A pretty name, and quite a pretty fellow."
A smile of self-satisfaction and a low bow were Nell's reply.
"Vain coxcomb!" cried Portsmouth, reprovingly, though she was highlyamused and even pleased with the strange youth's conceit.
"Nay; if I admire not myself," wistfully suggested Nell, in reply, withpretence of much modesty, "who will praise poor me in this greatpalace?"
"You are new at court?" asked Portsmouth, doubtingly.
"Quite new," asserted Nell, gaining confidence with each speech. "MyLondon tailor made a man of me only to-day."
"A man of you only to-day!" cried the Duchess, in wonderment.
"He assured me, madame," Nell hastened to explain, "that the fashionmakes the man. He did not like my former fashion. It hid too much thatwas good, he said. I am the bearer of this letter to the great Duchessof Portsmouth; that you are she, I know by your royalty."
She bowed with a jaunty, boyish bow, sweeping the floor with her plumedhat, as she offered the letter.
"Oh, you are the gentleman," said Portsmouth, recalling her request toBuckingham, which for the instant had quite escaped her. She took theletter and broke the seal eagerly.
"She does not suspect," thought Nell; and she crossed quickly to thecurtained arch, leading to the music and the dancing, in the hope thatshe might see the King.
Portsmouth, who was absorbed in the letter, did not observe her.
"From Rochet! Dear Rochet!" mused the Duchess, as she read aloud thelines: "'The bearer of this letter is a young gallan
t, very modest andvery little versed in the sins of court.'"
"Very little," muttered Nell, with a mischievous wink, still intent uponthe whereabouts and doings of the King.
"'He is of excellent birth,'" continued the Duchess, reading, "'brave,young and to be trusted--_to be trusted_. I commend him to yourkindness, protection and service, during his stay in town.'"
She reflected a moment intently upon the letter, then looked up quickly.Nell returned, somewhat confused, to her side.
"This is a very strong letter, sir," said Portsmouth, with an inquiringlook.
"Yes, very strong," promptly acquiesced Nell; and she chuckled as sherecalled that she had written it herself, taking near a fortnight in thecomposition. Her fingers ached at the memory.
"Where did you leave Rochet?" inquired the Duchess, almostincredulously.
"Leave Rochet?" thought Nell, aghast. "I knew she would ask me somethinglike that."
There was a moment's awkwardness--Nell was on difficult ground. Shefeared lest she might make a misstep which would reveal her identity.The Duchess grew impatient. Finally, Nell mustered courage and made abold play for it, as ever true to her brogue.
"Where did I leave Rochet?" she said, as if she had but then realizedthe Duchess's meaning, then boldly answered: "In Cork."
"In Cork!" cried Portsmouth, in blank surprise. "I thought his missiontook him to Dublin." She eyed the youth closely and wondered if hereally knew the mission.
"Nay; Cork!" firmly repeated Nell; for she dared not retract, lest sheawaken suspicion. "I am quite sure it was Cork I left him in."
"Quite sure?" exclaimed the Duchess, her astonishment increasing witheach confused reply.
"Well, you see, Duchess," said Nell, "we had an adventure. It was dark;and we were more solicitous to know whither the way than whence."
The Duchess broke into a merry laugh. The youth had captured her, withhis wistful, Irish eyes, his brogue and his roguish ways.
"We give a ball to-night," she said, gaily. "You shall stay and see theKing."
"The King!" cried Nell, feigning fright. "I should tremble so to see theKing."
"You need not fear," laughed the hostess. "He will not know you."
"I trust not, truly," sighed Nell, with much meaning, as she scanned herscanty masculine attire.
"Take my mask," said the Duchess, graciously. "As hostess, I cannot wearit."
Nell seized it eagerly. She would be safe with this little band of blackacross her eyes. Even the King would not know her.
"I shall feel more comfortable behind this," she said, naively.
"Did you ever mask?" inquired Portsmouth, gaily.
AS A CAVALIER MISTRESS NELL DECEIVES EVEN THE KING.]"Nay, I am too honest to deceive," answered Nell; and her eyes grew soround and so big, who would not believe her?
"But you are at court now," laughed the Duchess, patronizingly. "Maskingis the first sin at court."
"Then I'll begin with the first sin," said Nell, slyly, raising theDuchess's fingers to her lips, "and run the gamut."
They passed together into the great ball-room, Nell exercising all herarts of fascination--and they were many. The music ceased as theyentered. The dancers, and more especially the ladies, eyed curiously thejaunty figure of the new-comer. There were merry whisperings among them.
"Who can he be?" asked one, eagerly. "What a pretty fellow!" exclaimed asecond, in admiration. "I've been eying him," said a third,complacently.
The men too caught the infection.
"Who can he be?" inquired Rochester.
"Marry, I'll find out," said Lady Hamilton, with an air of confidence,having recovered by this time from the kisses which had been thrust uponher and being now ready for a new flirtation.
She approached Adair, artfully, and inquired: "Who art thou, mybutterfly? Tell me now, e'er I die." Her attitude was a credit to theextremes of euphuism.
There was general laughter at her presumptuous and effete pose andphrase.
The ladies had gathered about the new hero, like bees about new clover.The gallants stood, or sat as wall-flowers in a row, deserted. The Kingtoo had been abandoned for the lion of the hour and sat disconsolate.
"Peace, jealous ones!" cried Lady Hamilton, reprovingly, then continued,with a winning way: "I know thou art Apollo himself, good sir."
Nell smiled complacently, though she felt her mask, to assure herselfthat it was firm.
"Apollo, truly," she said, jauntily, "if thou art his lyre, sweet lady."
Lady Hamilton turned to the Duchess.
"Oh, your grace," she asked, languishingly, "tell us in a breath, tellus, who is this dainty beau of the ball?"
"How am I to know my guests," answered Portsmouth, feigning innocence,"with their vizors down? Nay, sweet sir, unmask and please the ladies.I'faith, who art thou?"
The hostess was delighted. The popularity of the new-comer was lending aunique novelty to her entertainment. She was well pleased that she haddetained Monsieur Adair. She thought she saw a jealous look in theKing's usually carelessly indifferent gaze when she encouraged theaffectionate glances of the Irish youth.
"I'faith," laughed Nell, in reply, "I know not, Duchess."
"D'ye hear?" said Portsmouth. "He knows not himself."
"But I have a suspicion, Duchess," sighed Nell.
"Hark ye," laughed Portsmouth, with a very pretty pout, "he has asuspicion, ladies."
"Nay, you will tell?" protested Nell, as the ladies gathered closerabout her in eager expectation.
There was a unison of voices to the contrary.
"Trust us, fair sir," said one. "Oh, we are good at keeping secrets."
"Then, 'twixt you and me, I am--" began Nell; and she hesitated,teasingly.
The group about grew more eager, more wild with curiosity.
"Yes, yes--" they exclaimed together.
"I am," said Nell, "the Pied Piper of Hamlin Town."
"The rat-catcher," cried Portsmouth. "Oh, oh, oh!"
There was a lifting of skirts, revealing many high-born insteps, and ascramble for chairs, as the ladies reflected upon the long lines of ratsin the train of the mesmeric Pied Piper.
"Flee, flee!" screamed Lady Hamilton, playfully. "He may pipe us intothe mountains after the children."
"You fill me with laughter, ladies," said Portsmouth to her guests. "Theman does not live who can entrap me."
"The woman does," thought Nell, as, mock-heroically, she placed near herlips a reed-pipe which she had snatched from a musician in the midst ofthe fun; and, whistling a merry tune which the pipe took no part in, shecircled about the room, making quite a wizard's exit.
The ladies, heart and soul in the fun, fell into line and followed, asif spell-bound by the magic of the Piper.
Charles, James, Rochester and the gallants, who remained, each of whomhad been in turn deserted by his fair lady, unmasked and looked at oneanother in wonderment. Of one accord, they burst into a peal oflaughter.
"Sublime audacity," exclaimed Charles. "Who is this curled darling--thisball-room Adonis? Ods-pitikins, we are in the sear and yellow leaf."
"Truly, Sire," said James, dryly, "I myself prefer a gathering of menonly."
"Brother James," forthwith importuned the King, waggishly, "will youfavour me with your lily-white hand for the next dance? I am driven toextremity."
"Pardon, Sire," replied James, quite humorously for him, "I am engagedto a handsomer man."
"Odsfish," laughed Charles, "King Charles of England a wall-flower.Come, Rochester, my epitaph."
The King threw himself into a chair, in an attitude of hopelessresignation, quite delicious.
Rochester perked up with the conceit and humour of the situation. Withthe utmost dignity, and with the quizzical, pinched brow of thelabouring muse, halting at each line, he said:
_"Here lies our sovereign lord, the King, Whose word no man relies on; Who never said a foolish thing, And never did a wise one!"_
The post-mortem verse was
sufficiently subtle and clever to revive theKing's drooping spirits; and he joined heartily in the applause.
"The matter," he said, approvingly, "is easily accounted for--mydiscourse is my own, my actions are my Ministry's."
There was a _frou-frou_ of petticoats. The hostess entered gaily.
"The King! The courtiers! Unmasked!" she exclaimed, in coy reproof. "Fy,fy, your Majesty! For shame! Gallants! Are you children that I must pairyou off?"
"We are seeking consolation," suggested Charles, dryly; "for modestsouls have small chance to-night, Louise."
He nodded significantly in the direction of the great ball-room, wherethe chatter of women's voices betokened the unrivalled popularity ofNell.
"When did you turn modest, Sire?" slyly inquired Portsmouth, with a lookof love.
"When I was out-stripped in audacity by yon Hibernian youth," repliedthe King, seriously. "Who is this peacock you are introducing?"
A peal of laughter from without punctuated the King's speech. It was thereward of a wit-thrust from Nell.
"The Piper the maids would now unmask?" queried Portsmouth, rapturously."Marry, 'tis the fascinating Beau Adair of Cork, entertaining theladies. Oh, he is a love, Sire; he does not sulk in corners. See! See!"
She pointed toward the archway, through which Nell was plainly visible.She was strutting jauntily back and forth upon the promenade. It isunnecessary to say that she was escorted by the assembled fair ones.
As Nell caught the eye of the hostess in the distance, she gaily tosseda kiss to her.
"'Sdeath, that I were a woman to hope for one of his languishingsmiles," observed Buckingham.
"Even the old hens run at his call," sneered the pious James, indiscontent; for he too had been deserted by his ladylove and even beforethe others.
The King looked at his brother with an air of bantering seriousness, tothe delight of all assembled.
"Brother James is jealous of the old ones only," he observed. "You knowhis favourites are given him by his priests for penance."
A merry ripple ran through the group.
The hostess took advantage of the King's speech to make a point.
"And you are jealous of the young ones only," she said, slyly, quicklyadding as a bid for jealousy: "Pooh, pooh! _Le Beau_ had letters tome, Sire. Nay, we do not love him very much. We have not as yet hadtime."
"Alas, alas," sighed Charles, with drooping countenance, "that it shouldcome to this."
"My liege, I protest--" cried Portsmouth, hastily, fearful lest shemight have gone too far. "To-night is the first I ever saw the youth. Iadore you, Sire."
"Not a word!" commanded Charles, with mock-heroic mien. He waved hishand imperatively to his followers. "Friends," he continued, "we willmix masks and dominoes and to't again to drown our sorrow."
"In the Thames?" inquired James, facetiously for him.
"Tush! In the punch-bowl, pious brother!" protested the Merry Monarch,with great dignity. "You know, a very little water will drown even aking."
The gallants mixed masks and dominoes in obedience to the royal wish.The King, sighing deeply, cast a hopeless glance at Portsmouth, notwithout its tinge of humour. He then sauntered slowly toward the windowsof the great ball-room, followed subserviently by all the courtiers,save Buckingham, who was lost in converse with player Hart.
"Hark ye," suddenly broke off Buckingham, observing the approach ofAdair and his adorers, "here come again the merry maskers. By Bacchus,the little bantam still reigns supreme. The King and his gallants intears. Let us join the mourners, Master Hart."
As the Duke and the player, the former assuming a fraternal air for anend of his own, joined the royal group, Nell re-entered gaily, everyinch the man. She was still surrounded by the ladies, who, fluttering,flattering and chattering, hung upon her every word. With one hand shetoyed with her mask, which she had good-naturedly dropped as none wereabout who knew her. She clapped it, however, quickly to her eyes atsight of the King.
"You overwhelm me, my fair ones," she said, with spirit, as she heldcourt in the centre of the room. "I assure you, I am not used to suchattention--from the ladies."
"Our hospitality is beggarly to your deserts," sighed Portsmouth, whohad joined the bevy, but loud enough for the King to hear.
"You quite o'erpower me, Duchess," answered Nell, modestly, adding forthe satisfaction of her own sense of humour: "No wonder we men arefools, if you women talk like this."
While she was speaking, Lady Hamilton whispered facetiously inPortsmouth's ear.
"Beau Adair married!" exclaimed the Duchess, in response. "It cannot be.He looks too gay for a married man."
"No confidences, my pretty ones," observed Nell, reprovingly.
The hostess hesitated; then she out with it in a merry strain.
"Lady Hamilton asks after the wife you left at home."
"My wife!" cried Nell, in astonishment; for this phase of hermasquerading had not presented itself to her before. "Great Heavens, Ihave no wife--I assure you, ladies!"
"So?" observed Portsmouth, her curiosity awakened. "Modest--for abachelor."
"A bachelor!" exclaimed Nell, now fully _en rapport_ with thespirit of the situation. "Well,--not exactly a bacheloreither,--ladies."
"Alack-a-day," sighed Lady Hamilton, with a knowing glance at hercompanions, "neither a bachelor nor a married man!"
"Well, you see--" explained Nell, adroitly, "that might seem a triflequeer, but--I'm in mourning--deeply in mourning, ladies."
She drew a kerchief from her dress and feigned bitter tears.
"A widower!" tittered Lady Hamilton, heartlessly. "Our unitedcongratulations, sir."
The other ladies one by one sobbed with affected sympathy, wiping theireyes tenderly, however, lest they might remove the rich colour fromtheir cheeks.
"Mesdames," said Nell, reprovingly, "the memory is sacred. Believe me,very sacred."
She fell apparently once again to weeping bitterly.
"The memory is always sacred--with men," observed Portsmouth, for thebenefit of her guests, not excepting the Irish youth. "Nay, tell us thename of the fair one who left you so young. My heart goes out to you,dear Beau."
"Kind hostess," replied Nell, assuming her tenderest tones, "the name ofmy departed self is--Nell!"
Hart caught the word. The player was standing near, reflecting on thescene and on the honeyed words of the Duke of Buckingham, who waspreparing the way that he might use him.
"Nell!" he muttered. "Who spoke that name?"
The hostess too was startled.
"Nell!" she exclaimed, with contending emotions. "Strange! Anothercavalier who graces _mon bal masque_ to-night has lost a loved onewhose name is Nell. Ah, but she was unworthy of his noble love."
She spoke pointedly at the masked King, who started perceptibly.
"Yes," he thought; for his conscience smote him, "unworthy--he of her."
"Unworthy, truly, if he dances so soon and his own Nell dead," addedNell, reflectively, but so that all might hear, more especially Charles.
"Perchance Nell too thinks so," thought he, as he restlessly walkedaway, sighing: "I wish I were with her on the terrace."
"'Sdeath, Duchess," continued Nell abruptly, in assumed horror at thesudden thought, "the lady's spirit may visit the ball, to the confusionof us all. Such things have been."
"The Nell I mean," said Portsmouth, with a confident smile, "will notventure here, e'en in spirit."
Nell assumed a baby-innocence of face.
"She has not been bidden, I presume?" she queried.
"The vixen would not stop for asking," declared Portsmouth, almostfiercely.
"Come without asking?" cried Nell, as if she could not believe thatthere could be such people upon the earth. "How ill-bred! Thine ear,loved one. My Nell revisits the world again at midnight. Therendezvous--St. James's Park."
Hart brushed close enough to the group, in his biting curiosity, tocatch her half-whisper to Portsmouth. He at once sought a window andfresh air, c
hafing with surprise and indignation at what he hadoverheard.
"St. James's at midnight," he muttered. "'Tis my Nell's abode."
The Duchess herself stood stunned at what appeared to her a possiblerevelation of great import.
"St. James's!" she thought. "Can he mean Madame Gwyn? No, no!"
The look of suspicion which for an instant had clouded her face changedto one of merriment, under Adair's magic glance.
"And you would desert me for such a fleshless sprite?" she asked.
"Not so," said Nell, with a winning look; "but, when my better-halfreturns to life, I surely cannot refuse an interview--especially an shecome from afar."
Nell's eyes arose with an expression of sadness, while her fingerpointed down--ward in the direction of what she deemed the probableabode of her departed "Nell." Her lips twitched in merriment, however,despite her efforts to the contrary; and the hostess fell a-laughing.
"Ladies," she cried, as she appealed to one and all, "is not _leBeau_ a delight--so different from ordinary men?"
"I am not an ordinary man, I assure you," Nell hastened to declare.
This assertion was acquiesced in by a buzz of pretty compliments fromthe entire bevy of ladies. "Positively charming!" exclaimed one. "Aperfect love!" said another.
Nell listened resignedly.
"'Sheart," she said, at length, with an air of _ennui_, "I cannothelp it. 'Tis all part of being a man, you know."
"Would that all men were like you, _le Beau_!" sighed the hostess,not forgetting to glance at the King, who again sat disconsolate, in themidst of his attendant courtiers, drawn up, as in line of battle,against the wall.
"Heaven help us if they were!" slyly suggested Nell.
Rochester, who had been watching the scene in his mischievous, artisticway, drew from Portsmouth's compliment to Adair another meaning. He wasa mixture 'twixt a man of arts and letters and Satan's own--a man afterthe King's own heart. Turning to the King, with no desire to appease themischief done, he said, banteringly:
"Egad, there's a rap at you, Sire. France would make you jealous."
The Duke of Buckingham too, though he appeared asleep, had seen it all.
"And succeeds, methinks," he reflected, glancing approvingly in thedirection of the Irish youth. "A good ally, i'faith."
Nell, indeed, was using all her arts of fascination to ingratiateherself with the Duchess, and making progress, too.
"Your eyes are glorious, fair hostess," she said, in her most gallantlove-tones, "did I not see my rival in them."
She could not, however, look at Portsmouth for laughter, as she thought:"I believe lying goes with the breeches; I never was so proficientbefore."
The compliment aroused the King's sluggish nature.
"I can endure no more, gallants," cried he, with some pretence of anger,rising abruptly, followed, of course, in each move and grimace by hiscourtier-apes, in their desire to please. "Are we to be out-done in ourown realm by this usurper with a brogue? Ha! The fiddlers! Madame, Iclaim the honour of this fair hand for the dance."
At the sound of the music, he had stepped gallantly forward, taking thehostess's hand.
"My thanks, gallant masker," replied the Duchess, pretending not to knowhim for flattery's sake, "but I am--"
To her surprise, she had no opportunity to complete the sentence.
"Engaged! Engaged!" interposed Nell, coming unceremoniously betweenthem, with swaggering assumption and an eye-shot at the King through theportal of her mask. "Forsooth, some other time, strange sir."
The hostess stood horrified.
"Pardon, Sir Masker," she hastened to explain; "but the dance waspledged--"
"No apologies, Duchess," replied the King, as he turned away,carelessly, with the reflection: "All's one to me at this assemblage."
He crossed the room, turning an instant to look, with a humorous,quizzical glance, at Portsmouth. Nell mistook the glance for a jealousone and, perking up quickly, caught the royal eye with a challengingeye, tapping her sword-hilt meaningly. Had the masks been off, thesituation would have differed. As it was, the King smiled indifferently.The episode did not affect him further than to touch his sense ofhumour. Nell turned triumphantly to her partner.
"Odsbud," she exclaimed, with a delicious, youthful swagger, "we mayhave to measure swords in your behalf, dear hostess. I trow the fellowloves you."
"Have a care," whispered the Duchess, nervously. "It is the King."
"What care I for a king?" saucily replied Nell, with a finger-snap. Shehad taken good care, however, to speak very low. "My arm, my arm,Duchess!" she continued, with a gallant step. "Places, places; or themusic will outstrip us."
"Strut on, my pretty bantam," thought Buckingham, whose eyes lost littlethat might be turned to his own advantage; "I like you well."
There was no mending things at this stage by an apology. The Duchess,therefore, tactfully turned the affair into one of mirth, in which shewas quickly joined by her guests. With a merry laugh, she took the Irishgallant's proffered arm, and together they led the dance. The Kingpicked a lady indifferently from among the maskers.
It was a graceful old English measure. Nell's roguish wits, as well asher feet, kept pace with the music. She assured her partner that she hadnever loved a woman in all her life before and followed this with ahundred merry jests and sallies, keyed to the merry fiddles, so full ofblarney that all were set a-laughing. Anon, the gallants drew theirswords and crossed them in the air, while the ladies tiptoed in and out.Nell's blade touched the King's blade. When all was ended the swordssaluted with a knightly flourish, then tapped the floor.
There was an exultant laugh from one and all, and the dance was done.
Nell hastened to her partner's side. She caught the Duchess's hand andkissed it.
"You dance divinely, your grace," she said. "A goddess on tiptoe."
"Oh, Beau Adair!" replied the Duchess, courtseying low; and her eyesshowed that she was not wholly displeased at the warmth of his youthfuladoration.
"Oh, Duchess!" said Nell, fondly, acknowledging the salute.
The Duchess hastened to join his Majesty and together they threadedtheir way through many groups.
Nell tossed her head.
"How I love her!" she muttered, veiling the sarcasm under her breath.
She crossed the great room, her head erect. Her confidence was quiterestored. This had been the most difficult bit of acting she had everdone; and how well it had been done!
The other dancers in twos and threes passed from the room in search ofquiet corners, in which to whisper nothings.
Nell's eyes fell upon Strings, who had had a slight turn for the betterin the world and who now, in a dress of somewhat substantial green, wasone of the fiddlers at the Duchess's ball.
"How now, sirrah!" she said, sharply, as she planted herself firmlybefore him to his complete surprise. "I knew you were here."
She placed one of her feet in a devil-may-care fashion upon aconvenient chair in manly contempt of its upholstery and peeped amusedlythrough her mask at her old friend. He looked at her in blank amazement.
"Gads-bobbs," he exclaimed, in confusion, "the Irish gentleman knowsme!"
"There's nothing like your old fiddle, Strings," continued Nell, stillplaying with delight upon his consternation. "It fills me with fortydancing devils. If you were to play at my wake, I would pick up myshroud, and dance my way into Paradise."
"Your lordship has danced to my fiddling before?" he gasped, in utteramazement.
"Danced!" gleefully cried Nell. "I have followed your bow through athousand jigs. To the devil with these court-steps. I'm for a jig, jig,jig, jig, jig! Oh, I'm for a jig! Tune up, tune up, comrade; and we'llhave a touch of the old days at the King's House."
"The King's House! Jigs!" exclaimed the fiddler, now beside himself.
"Jigs!" chuckled Nell. "Jigs are my line of business."
_Oranges, will you have my oranges?
Sweet as love-lips, dearest mine,
Picked by Spanish maids divine,--_
The room had now quite cleared; and, protected by a friendly alcove,Nell punctuated the old song with a few happily turned jig-steps.Strings looked at her a moment in bewilderment: then his face grew warmwith smiles; the mystery was explained.
"Mistress Nell, as I live," he cried, joyously, "turned boy!"
"The devil fly away with you, you old idiot! Boy, indeed!" replied Nell,indignantly. "I'm a full-grown widower!"
She had removed her mask and was dancing about Strings gleefully.
There was the sound of returning voices.
"Oons, you will be discovered," exclaimed Strings, cautiously.
"Marry, I forgot," whispered Nell, glancing over her shoulder. "You mayhave to help me out o' this scrape, Strings, before the night is done."
"You can count on me, Mistress Nell, with life," he replied, earnestly.
"I believe you!" said Nell, in her sympathetic, hearty way. Her mindreverted to the old days when Strings and she were at the King's. "Oh,for just one jig with no petticoats to hinder."
Nell, despite herself, had fallen into an old-time jig, with much gusto,for her heart was for a frolic always, when Strings, seized her arm inconsternation, pointing through the archway.
"The King!" she exclaimed.
She clapped her mask to her eyes and near tumbled through the nearestarras out of the room in her eagerness to escape, dragging herever-faithful comrade with her.
Mistress Nell: A Merry Tale of a Merry Time Page 13