Part 21 (1/2)

The great d.u.c.h.ess courtesied low, kissed the King's hand, arose to her full height and, with an eye-shot at Nell, took her departure.

CHAPTER X

_Arrest him yourself!_

The King stood at the door, thoughtfully reflecting on the temper of the departing d.u.c.h.ess. She was a maid of honour and, more than that, an emissary from his brother Louis of France. Gossip said he loved her, but it was not true, though he liked her company exceeding well when the mood suited. He regretted only the evening's incident, with the harsher feeling it was sure to engender.

Nell stood by the fireplace, muttering French phrases in humorous imitation of her grace. Observing the King's preoccupation, she tossed a _serviette_ merrily at his head.

This brought his Majesty to himself again. He turned, and laughed as he saw her; for his brain and heart delighted in her merry-making. He loved her.

”What means this vile French?” she asked, with delicious suggestion of the shrug, accent and manner of her vanquished rival.

”The d.u.c.h.ess means,” explained the King, ”that she gives a royal ball--”

”And invites me?” broke in Nell, quickly, placing her elbows upon a cask and looking over it impishly at Charles.

”And invites you _not_” said the King, ”and so outwits you.”

”By her porters' wits and not her own,” retorted Nell.

She threw herself into a chair and became oblivious for the moment of her surroundings.

”The French hussy! So she gives a ball?” she thought. ”Well, well, I'll be there! I'll teach her much. Oh, I'll be pretty, too, aye, very pretty. No fear yet of rivalry or harm for England.”

Charles watched her amusedly, earnestly, lovingly. The vixen had fallen unconsciously into imitating again the d.u.c.h.ess's foreign ways, as an accompaniment even for her thoughts.

”_Sans doute_, we shall, _madame_” Nell muttered audibly, with much gesticulating and a mocking accent. ”_a mon bal! Pas adieu, mais au revoir_.”

The King came closer.

”Are you ill,” he asked, ”that you do mutter so and wildly act?”

”I was only thinking that, if I were a man,” she said, turning toward him playfully, ”I would love your d.u.c.h.ess to devotion. Her wit is so original, her repartee so st.u.r.dy. Your Majesty's taste in horses--and some women--is excellent.”

She crossed the room gaily and threw herself laughing upon the bench.

The King followed her.

”Heaven help the being, naughty Nell,” he said, ”who offends thy merry tongue; but I love thee for it.” He sat down beside her in earnest adoration, then caught her lovingly in his arms.

”Love me?” sighed Nell, scarce mindful of the embrace. ”Ah, Sire, I am but a plaything for the King at best, a caprice, a fancy--naught else.”

”Nay, sweet,” said Charles, ”you have not read this heart.”

”I have read it too deeply,” replied Nell, with much meaning in her voice. ”It is this one to-day, that one to-morrow, with King Charles.

Ah, Sire, your love for the poor player-girl is summed up in three little words: 'I amuse you!'”