Part 37 (2/2)
The wine added further zest to the merry-making and the desire for sport.
”Now, fair huswife,” continued Charles, his thoughts reverting to Adair, ”set forth the dish, that we may carve it to our liking. 'Tis a dainty bit,--lace, velvet and ruffles.”
”Heyday, Sire,” responded Nell, evasively, ”the larder's empty.”
”Devil on't,” cried Charles, ferociously; ”no mincing, wench. In the confusion of the ball, the bird escaped my guard by magic. We know whither the flight.”
The King a.s.sumed a knowing look.
”Escaped the guard?” gasped Nell, in great surprise. ”Alas, I trow some petticoat has hid him then.”
”I'll stake my life upon't,” observed James, who had not been heard from in some time but who had been observing the scene with decorous dignity.
”Sire, you would not injure Adair,” pleaded Nell, now alert, with all her arts of fascination. ”You are too generous. Blue eyes of heaven, and such a smile! Did you mark that young Irishman's smile, Sire?”
Her impudence was so bewitching that the King scarce knew whether it were jest or earnest. He sprang to his feet from the couch, where he had thrown himself after the toast to Nell, and, with some forcefulness, exclaimed:
”Odsfish, this to my teeth, rogue! Guard the doors, gallants; we'd gaze upon this paragon.”
”And set him pirouetting, Sire,” sardonically suggested James.
”Yea, to the tune of these fiddle-sticks,” laughed Charles, as he unsheathed his rapier. ”Search from tile to rafter.”
”Aye, aye,” echoed the omnipresent Rochester, ”from cellar to garret.”
Before, however, the command could be obeyed, even in resolution, Nell moved uneasily to a curtain which hung in the corner of the room and placed herself before it, as if to s.h.i.+eld a hidden man.
”Sire,” she pleaded fearfully, ”spare him, Sire; for my sake, Sire. He is not to blame for loving me. He cannot help it. You know that, Sire!”
”Can he really be here?” muttered Charles, with clouding visage. ”Saucy wench! Hey! My blood is charging full-tilt through my veins. Odsfish, we'll try his mettle once again.”
”Prythee, Sire,” begged Nell, ”he is too n.o.ble and brave and handsome to die. I love his very image.”
”Oh, ho!” cried Charles. ”A silken blind for the silken bird! Hey, St.
George for merry England! Come forth, thou picture of cowardice, thou vile slanderer.”
He grasped Nell by the wrist and fairly dragged her across the room.
Then, rus.h.i.+ng to the curtain, he seized its silken folds and tore it completely from its hangings--only to face himself in a large mirror.
”Ods-pitikins, my own reflection!” he exclaimed, with menacing tone, though there was relief as well in his voice. He bent the point of his blade against the floor, gazed at himself in the pier-gla.s.s and looked over his shoulder at Nell, who stood in the midst of his courtiers, splitting her sides with laughter, undignified but honest.
”Rogue, rogue,” he cried, ”I should turn the point on thee for this trick; but England would be worse than a Puritan funeral with no Nell.
Thou shalt suffer anon.”
”I defy thee, Sire, and all thy imps of Satan,” laughed the vixen, as she watched the King sheathe his jewelled sword. ”Cast Nell in the blackest dungeon, Adair is her fellow-prisoner; outlaw Nell, Adair is her brother outlaw; off with Nell's head, off rolls Adair's. Who else can boast so true a love!”
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