Part 18 (1/2)
”What a voice,” reflected Nell, in her hiding-place, ”in which to sigh, 'I love you.'”
”Barbarous place!” exclaimed Portsmouth. ”His Majesty must have lost his wits.”
She smiled complacently, however, as she reflected that the King might consent even within these walls and that his sign-manual, if so secured, would be as binding as if given in a palace.
”_Garcon!_” again she called, irritably.
Nell was meanwhile inspecting her rival from top to toe. Nothing escaped her quick eye. ”I'll wager her complexion needs a veil,” she muttered, with vixenish glee. ”That gown is an insult to her native France.”
”_Garcon_; answer me,” commanded Portsmouth, fretfully.
The landlord had danced about her grace in such anxiety to please that he had displeased. He had not learned the courtier's art of being ever present, yet never in the way.
”Yes, your ladys.h.i.+p,” he stupidly repeated again and again. ”What would your ladys.h.i.+p?”
”Did a prince leave commands for supper?” she asked, impatiently.
”No, your ladys.h.i.+p,” he replied, obsequiously. ”A ragged rogue ordered a banquet and then ran away, your ladys.h.i.+p.”
”How, sirrah?” she questioned, angrily, though the poor landlord had meant no discourtesy.
”If he knew his guests, he would ne'er return,” softly laughed Nell.
”_Parbleu_,” continued Portsmouth, in her French, impatient way, now quite incensed by the stupidity of the landlord, ”a cavalier would meet me at Ye Blue Boar Inn; so said the messenger.”
She suddenly caught sight of Nell, whose biting curiosity had led her from her hiding-place. ”This is not the rendezvous,” she reflected quickly. ”We were to sup alone.”
The landlord still bowed and still uttered the meaningless phrase: ”Yes, your ladys.h.i.+p.”
The d.u.c.h.ess was at the end of her patience. ”_Mon Dieu_,” she exclaimed, ”do you know nothing, sirrah?”
The moon-face beamed. The head bowed and bowed and bowed; the hands were rubbed together graciously.
”Good lack, I know not; a supper for a king was ordered by a ragged Roundhead,” he replied. ”Here are two petticoats, your ladys.h.i.+p. When I know which petticoat is which petticoat, your ladys.h.i.+p, I will serve the dinner.”
The tavern-keeper sidled toward the kitchen-door. As he went out, he muttered, judiciously low: ”I wouldn't give a ha'penny for the choice.”
”Beggar!” snapped Portsmouth. ”Musty place, musty furniture, musty _garcon_, musty everything!”
She stood aloof in the centre of the room as if fearful lest she might be contaminated by her surroundings.
Nell approached her respectfully.
”You may like it better after supper, madame,” she suggested, mildly. ”A good spread, sparkling wine and most congenial company have cast a halo o'er more time-begrimed rafters than these.”
”Who are you, madame?” inquired the d.u.c.h.ess, haughtily.
”A fellow-pa.s.senger on the earth,” gently replied Nell, ”and a lover of good company, and--some wine.”
”Yes?” said the d.u.c.h.ess, in a way that only a woman can ask and answer a question with a ”yes” and with a look such as only a woman can give another woman when she asks and answers that little question with a ”yes.”