Tybalt.--Gentlemen, good den; a word with one of you.
Mercutio.--And but one word with one of us? Couple it with
something; make it a word and a blow.
Tybalt.--You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, if you give
me occasion.
_Romeo and Juliet_.
Scarcely knowing what he did, Sir Osborne sprang after Dr. Butts, and
walked on with him for a minute or two in silence, while his brain
turned, and all his thoughts and feelings whirled in inextricable
confusion.
"Ah!" muttered the physician to himself, seeing the absent agitated
air of his young companion; "ah! you've been making a fool of
yourself, I see, though you've not had much time either."
The murmuring of the good doctor, however, did not disturb in the
least the young knight's reverie, which might have lasted an
indefinite space of time, had he not been roused therefrom by a smart
tap on the shoulder. Laying his hand upon his sword, he turned
suddenly round, and beheld Lord Darby, who, seeing him grasp the hilt
of his weapon, pointed to it coolly, saying, "Not here, sir, not here;
but anywhere else you please."
"What would you with me, sir?" demanded the knight, not exactly
understanding his object, though quite ready to quarrel upon any
provocation that might occur.
"But a trifle," replied the earl. "You looked at me some five minutes
past as if I had offended you in something. Now, that being the case,
I am ready to make reparation at the sword's point when and where it
may suit your convenience."
"But, my good lord," said Dr. Butts, who had turned back, "this is a
mistake. How can you have offended this good knight, who never saw you
till to-day?"
"Oh, the problem! the problem, my good doctor," replied Lord Darby.
"Why does a farmer's cur bark at a beggar, and let a ruffling gallant
swagger by? Perchance the knight may not like my countenance; my
complexion, my nose, may not please him; my mouth, the cut of my
beard."
"Faith! neither one nor the other pleases me particularly," answered
Sir Osborne. "At all events, my lord, if your wish be to quarrel with
me, I will not balk your humour. So say your will, and have it."
"Oh! if that be the case," said Lord Darby, "and you'd rather be
quarrelled with than quarrel, the offence shall come on my part. Fair
sir, I dislike that scar upon your brow so much that I shall not be
content till I make its fellow on your heart; therefore, when your
good humour serves to give me an opportunity of tilting at your nose,
you will find me your very humble servant."
"Nay, now, my lord!" cried Dr. Butts, "I must witness that you have
given the provocation; for under any other circumstances, this
gentleman is so situated that 'twould be mere madness to meet you as
you wish."
"If it be provocation he desires," cried the earl, "he shall have a
dish of it, so cooked as to serve an emperor. He is a gentleman, I
suppose, and worth a gentleman's sword?"
"Your equal in every respect, and your better in many," replied the
knight. "And in regard to provocation, I have had as much, my lord, as
your body may well bear in repayment. How do you choose to fight?"
"Quietly! quietly!" answered the earl. "A few inches of tough steel
are as good as a waggon load. A double-edged sword, sir, such as we
both wear, may serve our turn, I should suppose; and as it may be
unpleasant to both of us to make the monster multitude busy with our
little affair, we will be single, hand to hand. I do detest the habit
of making the satisfaction of private wrongs the public amusement.
We'll have no crowd, sir, to look on and criticise our passados, as if
we were gladiators on a stage. Where shall it be?"
"Why, faith, my lord!" answered the knight, "as I am a mere stranger
here, I know but of one place. The gardens of my Lord of Buckingham,
at the Rose, are large; and I remarked this morning a grove, where
there must be good space and quiet. If, therefore, you will inquire
for me at his grace's dwelling this evening, at four of the clock, you
will find me prepared to receive you."
Lord Darby waved his hand for his page to come up, who stood
chattering with the foot-boy that had accompanied the knight, and
taking from him a case of tablets, he wrote down the name of Sir
Osborne, and the place and hour he had appointed. "And now, fair sir,"
said he, "I will leave you. I shall not miss my hour. Good doctor,
your profession has doubtless taught you secrecy, and so farewell!"
So saying, Lord Darby walked away, leaving Sir Osborne with Dr. Butts.
"Ah!" cried the physician, "a bad business! a bad business! Yet it
cannot be helped; if two people will fall in love with the same woman,
what can be done? But it's a bad business for you. If he kills you,
why that is not pleasant; and if you kill him, you must fly your
country. A bad business! a bad business! But fare ye well! Don't kill
him if you can help it; for he's not bad, as times go; wound him
badly, then it may be mended. Fare ye well! fare ye well!" and turning
away he left Sir Osborne, not appearing to take much heed of the
approaching duel, though in reality deeply occupied with the means of
preventing it, without betraying the trust that had been reposed in
him.
Sir Osborne was not displeased to be left to his own meditations; and
plunged in thought, he followed his young guide down a narrow lane,
running between the gardens of York and Durham Houses. "I thought,
sir, you might like to take boat," said the boy, who was himself
completely wearied out with waiting for the knight, "and so brought
your worship down here, where there is always a boatman. 'Twill save
three miles, your worship."
Sir Osborne signified his assent, and the boat being procured, he was
soon after landed within a short distance of St. Lawrence Poulteney,
where he was received with great respect by the duke's household, and
formally marshalled to his apartment. Two hours still remained to the
time of rendezvous, which he spent in writing to his father; never
thinking, however, of alluding to his approaching rencontre; for in
truth, though not vain either of his skill or strength, he had enjoyed
so many opportunities of proving both, that he well knew it must be a
strong and dexterous man indeed, who would not lie greatly at his
mercy in such an encounter as that which was to ensue.
In the mean while, Lord Darby, carried away by passion, thought of
nothing but his approaching meeting; and though he looked upon Sir
Osborne as some knight attached to the Duke of Buckingham, he was very
willing to pass over any little difference of rank for the sake of
gratifying the angry feelings by which he was possessed. He was,
however, very greatly surprised, when on presenting himself, towards
four o'clock, at the manor-house of the Rose, he found that the same
attendance and respect waited Sir Osborne Maurice, a man he never even
heard of, as he had seen paid to the Duke of Buckingham himself. Two
servants marshalled the way to the knight's apartments, one ran on
before to announce him; and with a deference and attention which
evidently did not proceed from his own rank, for he had not given his
name, but rather, apparently, from the station of the person whom he
went to visit, he was ushered into the splendid apartments which had
been assigned to the knight.
Sir Osborne rose from the table where he had been writing, and with
graceful but frigid courtesy, invited him to be seated, which was
complied with by the earl, till such time as the servants were gone.
"Now my lord," said Sir Osborne, as soon as the door was shut, "I am
at your service; I will finish my writing at my return. Will you
examine my sword, 'tis apparently somewhat longer than yours, but here
is one that is shorter. Now, sir."
"That is shorter than mine," said Lord Darby. "Have you not another?"
"Not here," replied the knight; "but this will do, if you are
satisfied that it is not longer than your own. By this passage we
shall find our way to the garden privately, as I am informed. Pardon
me, if I lead the way."
Lord Darby followed in silence, perhaps not quite so contented with
the business in which he had engaged as when he undertook it. There
was a sort of calm determination in Sir Osborne's manner, that had
something in it very unpleasantly impressive, and the young peer began
to think it would have been better to have sought some explanation ere
he had hurried himself into circumstances of what might be unnecessary
danger. However, he felt that it was now too late to make any advance
towards such a measure; and there, too, in the knight's cap, still
stood the identical large sapphire ring, which, if he might believe
his eyes, he had seen a thousand times on the hand of his promised
wife. The sight, thereof, served marvellously well to stir up his
anger; and striding on, he kept equal pace with Sir Osborne down the
long alley which led from the house into a deep grove near the side of
the river. The knight paused at a spot where the trees concealed them
from the view of the house, and opening out into a small amphitheatre,
gave full space for the deadly exercise in which they were about to be
engaged.
"Now, Lord Darby," said he, drawing his sword, and throwing down the
scabbard before him, "you see me as I stand; and as a knight and a
gentleman, I have no other arms, offensive or defensive, but this
sword, so help me God!"
"And so say I," replied Lord Darby, "upon my honour;" and following
the knight's example, he drew his sword, cast the sheath away from
him, and brought his blade across that of his adversary.
"Madmen! what are ye about to do?" cried a stern voice from the wood.
"Put up, put up!" and the moment after, the diminutive form of Sir
Cesar the astrologer stood directly between them. "What devil," he
continued, parting their drawn swords with his bare hands; "what devil
has tempted ye--ye, of all other men, destined to bring about each
others' happiness--what devil, I say, has tempted ye to point these
idle weapons at each other's life?"
"Sir Cesar," said Lord Darby, "I am well aware that you possess the
means of seeing into the future by some method, for which scurrilous
people hint that you are likely to be damned pretty heartily in the
next world; so you are just the person to settle our dispute. But tell
us, which it is of us two that is destined to slay the other, and then
the one who is doomed to taste cold iron this day will have nothing to
do but offer his throat, for depend upon it, only one will leave this
spot alive."
"Talk not so lightly of death, young lord," replied the old man, "for
'tis a bitter and unsavoury cup to drink, as thou shalt find when thy
brain swims, and thy heart grows sick, and thine eye loses its light,
and thy parting spirit reels upon the brink of a dim and shadowy
world. But I tell thee that both shall leave this spot alive; though
if any one remained upon this sward, full surely it were thyself; for
thou art as much fitted to cope with him as the sapling with the
thunderbolt of heaven. But listen, each of you, I adjure you: state
what you demand of the other; and if, after all, ye be still bent upon
blood, blood ye shall have. But full sure am I that now neither fool
knows what the other seeks."
Both the antagonists stood silent, gazing first on each other, and
then on Sir Cesar, as if they knew not what to reply, and both feeling
that there might be some truth in what the old man advanced. At
length, however, Lord Darby broke forth, "God's life, what he says is
true! Sir Osborne Maurice, what do you seek of me?"
"Speak! speak!" cried Sir Cesar, turning to the knight, who seemed to
hesitate; "speak, if the generous blood of a thousand noble ancestors
be still warm in your veins! Be candid, and charge him like a man."
Sir Osborne's cheek burned. "The quarrel is of his own seeking," said
he, "and what I have to say, I know not how to speak, without
violating the confidence of a lady, which cannot be."
"Then I will speak for you," said Sir Cesar. "Lord Darby he demands
that you shall yield all claim and all pursuit of Lady Constance de
Grey. This is his demand; now for yours. Oh! if I am deceived in you,
woe to you and yours for ever!"
"I can scarcely suppose," replied the earl, with bitter emphasis,
"that such be this knight's demand, when I see the ring of another
lady borne openly in his bonnet; a lady that shall never be his, so
long as one drop of blood flows in my veins."
"This ring, my lord," replied Sir Osborne, taking it from the plume of
his hat, "was only trusted with me as a deposit to transmit to the
person to whom it originally belonged, claiming his advice for a lady,
whose affianced lover was, as report said, about to wed another; Sir
Cesar, I give it unto you for whom it was intended."
"Faith, I have been in the wrong!" cried Lord Darby, extending his
hand frankly to Sir Osborne. "In the first place, pardon me, sir
knight, for having insulted you; and next, let me say, that in regard
to Lady Constance de Grey, I have no claim but that of kindred upon
her affection, and none upon her hand. Farther, if you can show that
your rank entitles you to such alliance, none will be happier than
myself to aid you in your suit. Though, let me observe, without
meaning offence, that the name of Sir Osborne Maurice is unknown to
me, except as connected with the history of the last reign. And now,
sir, having said thus much, doubtless you will explain to me how that
ring came into your possession, and by what motives Lady Katrine
Bulmer could be induced to confide her most private affairs to a
gentleman who can be but an acquaintance of a month."
"Most willingly," replied the knight; and after detailing to Lord
Darby the circumstances which we already know, he added: "The letter
of which I speak is still in my possession, and if you will return
with me to the house, I will deliver it to you, as I cannot doubt,
from what you say, that the report of a marriage being in agitation
between yourself and Lady Constance de Grey originated in some
mistake."
"Faith, not a whit!" cried the earl; "the report is unhappily too
true. The lord cardinal, whom we all know to be one degree greater
than the greatest man in England, has laid his commands upon me to
marry my cousin Constance, although both my heart and my honour are
plighted to another, and has equally ordered my cousin to wed me,
although her heart be, very like, fully as much given away as mine.
However, never supposing we could think of disobeying, he has already
sent to Rome for all those permissions and indulgences which are
necessary for first cousins in such cases; and on my merely hinting in
a sweet and dutiful manner, that it might be better to see first
whether it pleased the lady, he replied, meekly, that it pleased him,
and that it pleased the king, which was quite enough both for her and
me."
This information did not convey the most pleasing sensations to Sir
Osborne's heart, and in a moment there flashed through his mind a
thousand vague but evil auguries. Danger to Constance herself, the
ruin of his father's hopes, the final destruction of his house and
family, and all the train of sorrows and of evils that might follow,
if Wolsey were to discover his rash love, hurried before his eyes like
the thronging phantoms of a painful dream, and clouded his brow with a
deep shade of thoughtful melancholy.
"Fear not, Osborne Darnley," said Sir Cesar, seeing the gloomy look of
the young knight. "This cardinal is great, but there is one greater
than he, who beholds his pride, and shall break him like a reed. Nor
in this thing shall his will be obeyed. Believe what I say to you, for
it is true; I warned you once of coming dangers, and you doubted me;
but the evils I foresaw fell upon your head. Doubt me not then now;
but still I see fear sits upon your eyelids. Come, then, both of you
with me, for in this both your destinies are linked for a time
together. Spend with me one hour this night, and I will show you that
which shall ease your hearts," and he turned towards the house,
beckoning them to follow.
"I suppose, then, your lordship is satisfied," said Sir Osborne,
taking up the scabbard of his sword, and replacing it with the weapon
in his belt, as the astrologer moved away.
"I should be more satisfied," said Lord Darby, laying his hand on the
knight's arm with a frank smile, "if you would confide in me. Indeed,
I have no title to pry into your secrets," he added, "nor in those of
Constance either, though I think she might have told me of this
yesterday, when I made her a partaker of all mine. However, I cannot
believe that the profound reverence in which all the duke's servants
seem to hold you, can be excited by the unknown Sir Osborne Maurice.
Besides, Sir Cesar called you but now Osborne Darnley. Can it be that
I am speaking to the Lord Darnley, who from his feats at the court of
the princess dowager, goes amongst us by the surname of the Knight of
Burgundy?"[8]
"I shall not deny my name, Lord Darby," replied the knight. "I am, as
you say, Lord Darnley; but as this has fallen into your knowledge by
mere accident, I shall hold you bound in honour to forget it."
"Nay!" replied the earl. "I shall remember it--to render you, if
possible, all service. But come, Darnley, as by a mistake we began
bitter enemies, now let us end dear friends. I can aid you much, you
can aid me much, and between us both surely we shall be able to break
the trammels with which the cardinal enthrals us. We will put four
young heads against one old one, and the world to nothing we shall
win!"
There was a frankness in Lord Darby's manner that it was impossible to
resist, and taking the hand he tendered him, the young adventurer met
his offered friendship with equal candour. With the openness natural
to youth, the plans of each were soon told, the sooner, indeed, that
their future prospects and endeavours so greatly depended for success
upon their sincere co-operation, and thus they sauntered back to the
house, with very different feelings from those with which they had
left it. Before they had arrived at the steps of the door, they had
run through a thousand details, and were as much prepared to act
together as if their acquaintance had been of many years' duration. No
sooner did the young earl hear that his new friend had not yet been
introduced to the king, than he at once proposed to be the person to
do it, offering to call for him in his barge the next day but one, and
convey him to the court at Greenwich, where he undertook to procure
him a good reception.
"It may be difficult," he said, "to find private audience of those two
persons whom we both feel most anxious to meet. Dame Fortune, however,
may befriend us; but we must be cautious even to an excess, for Wolsey
has eyes that see where he is not present, and ears that hear over
half the realm, and the first step to make our plans successful,
depend upon it, is to conceal them. But, lo! where Sir Cesar stands at
the window of the hall. Now, in the name of fortune, where will he
lead us to-night? 'Tis strange that there should be men so gifted with
rare qualities as to see into the deepest secrets of nature, to view
things that to others are concealed, and yet seemingly to profit
little by their knowledge; for never did I meet or hear of one of
these astrologers that were either happier or more fortunate than
other men. And yet, what were the good to Sir Cesar to boast a
knowledge that he did not possess? For he seeks no reward, will accept
of no recompense, and hourly exposes what he says to contradiction if
it be not true. But doubtless it _is_ true, for every day gives proofs
thereof. That man is a riddle, which would have gained the Sphynx a
good dinner off [OE]dipus. You seem to know him well, but I dare say
know no more of him than any one else does; for no one that I ever met
knows who he is, nor where he comes from, nor where he goes to; and
yet he is well received everywhere, courted, ay, and even loved, for
he is beneficent, charitable, and humane; is rich, though it is
unknown whence his wealth arises, and possesses wonderful knowledge,
though, I fear me, wickedly acquired. I have heard that those poor
wretches who have mastered forbidden secrets often strive to repair,
by every good deed, the evil that their presumptuous curiosity has
done to their own souls: God knows how it is. But come, let us join
him. The information we gain from him, at all events, is sure."
Entering the manor-house, they passed on into the hall, where they
found Sir Cesar buried in deep thought; and while the young knight
proceeded to his own apartments, to procure the letter which Lady
Katrine Bulmer had entrusted to him, the Earl of Darby approached the
old knight with that sort of constitutional gaiety which, like a
spoiled servant, would very often play the master with its lord.
"Well, Sir Cesar," cried he, "where are your thoughts roaming? In the
world above, or the world below?"
"Farther in heaven than you will ever be," replied the old man.
"Nay, then," continued the earl, "as you can tell everything, past,
present, and to come, could you divine what we were talking of but now
in the gardens?"
"At first you were talking of what did concern yourselves, and
afterwards of what did _not_ concern you," answered the knight.
"Magic, by my faith!" cried the earl; "and in truth, your coming just
in the nick of time, as folks have it, to save us from slicing each
other's throats, must have had a spice of magic in it too."
"If one used magic for so weak a purpose as that of saving an empty
head like thine," replied the knight, "it would be worthy the jest
with which you treat it. Fools and children attribute everything to
magic that they do not comprehend; but, however, my coming here had
none. Was it not easy for one friend to tell another that he had heard
two mad young men name a place to slaughter each other, they knew not
for what? But here comes thy companion. Read thy letter, and then come
with me; for the light is waning, and the hour comes on when I can
show ye both some part at least of your destiny."
Lord Darby eagerly cut the silk which fastened Lady Katrine's letter,
and read it with that air of intense earnestness which can never be
put on, and which would have removed from the mind of Sir Osborne any
doubt of the young earl's feelings, even if he had still continued to
entertain such. This being done, they prepared to accompany Sir Cesar,
who insisted that not even a page should follow them; and accordingly
Lord Darby's attendant was ordered to remain behind and wait his
lord's return.
Passing, then, out into the street, they soon found themselves in the
most crowded part of the city of London, which was at that time of the
evening filled with the various classes of mechanics, clerks, and
artists, returning to their homes from their diurnal toil. Gliding
through the midst of them, Sir Cesar passed on, not in the least
heeding the remarks which his diminutive size and singular apparel
called forth, though Lord Darby did not seem particularly to relish a
promenade through the city with such a companion, and very possibly
might have left Sir Osborne to proceed alone if he liked it, had not
that strong curiosity which we all experience to read into the future
carried him on to the end.
Darkness now began to fall upon their path, and still the old man led
them forward through a thousand dark and intricate turnings, till at
length, in what appeared to be a narrow lane, the houses of which
approached so closely together, that it would have been an easy leap
from the windows on one side of the way into those of the other, the
old knight stopped and struck three strokes with the hilt of his
dagger upon a door on the left hand.
It was opened almost immediately by a tall meagre man, holding in his
hand a small silver lamp, which he applied close to the face of Sir
Cesar before he would permit any one to pass. "Il maestro," cried he,
as soon as he saw the dark small features of the astrologer, making
him at the same time a profound inclination, "entra, dottissimo!
Benvenuto, benvenuto sia!"
Sir Cesar replied in an under tone, and taking the lamp from the
Italian, motioned Sir Osborne and the earl to follow. The staircase up
which he conducted them was excessively small, narrow, and winding,
bespeaking one of the meanest houses in the city; and what still more
excited their surprise, they mounted near forty steps without
perceiving any door or outlet whatever, except where a blast of cold
air through a sort of loophole in the wall announced their proximity
to the street.
At length the astrologer stopped opposite a door only large enough to
admit the passage of one person at a time, through which he led the
way, when to the astonishment of both Sir Osborne and the earl, they
found themselves in a magnificent oblong apartment, nearly forty feet
in length, and rather more than twenty in breadth. On each side were
ranged tables and stands, covered with various specimens of ancient
art, which, rare in any age, were then a thousand times more scarce
than they are now.
Although the taking of Constantinople, about seventy years before, by
driving many of the Greeks amongst whom elegance and science long
lingered, into other countries, had revived already, in some degree,
the taste for the arts of painting and sculpture, still few, very few,
even of the princes of Europe, could boast such beautiful specimens as
those which that chamber contained.
Here stood a statue, there an urn; on one table was an alabaster
capital of exquisite workmanship, on another a bas-relief whose
figures seemed struggling from the stone; medals, and gems, and
specimens of curious ores, were mingled with the rest; and many a
book, written in strange and unknown characters, lay open before their
eyes. There, too, were various instruments of curious shape and
device, whose purpose they could not even guess; while here frowned a
man in armour, there grinned a skeleton; and there, swathed in its
historic bands, stood an Egyptian mummy, resting its mouldering and
shapeless head against the feet of a figure, in which some long-dead
artist had laboured skilfully to display all the exquisite lines of
female loveliness.
To observe all this the two young men had full opportunity, while Sir
Cesar proceeded forward, stopping between each table, and bringing the
flame of the lamp he carried in contact with six others, which stood
upon a row of ancient bronze tripods ranged along the side of the
hall. At the end of the room hung a large black curtain, on each side
of which was a clock of very curious manufacture; the one showing,
apparently, the year, the day, the hour, and the minute; and the other
exposing a figure of the zodiac, round which moved a multitude of
strange hieroglyphic signs, some so rapidly that the eye could
scarcely distinguish their course, some so slow that their motion was
hardly to be discerned.
As Sir Osborne and Lord Darby approached, Sir Cesar drew back the
curtain, and exposed to their sight an immense mirror, in which they
could clearly distinguish their own figures, and that of the
astrologer, reflected at full length.[9] "Mark!" said Sir Cesar, "and
from what you shall see, draw your own inference. But question me not:
for I vowed when I received that precious gift, which is now before
you, never to make one comment upon what it displayed. Mark! and when
you have seen, leave me."
"But I see nothing," said Sir Osborne, "except my own reflection in
the glass."
"Patience, patience. Impetuous spirit," cried the old man. "Will a
hundred lives never teach thee calmness? Look to the mirror!"
Sir Osborne turned his eyes to the glass, but still nothing new met
his view; and after gazing for a minute or two, he suffered his glance
to wander to the clock by his side, which now struck eight with a
clear, sweet, musical sound.
At that moment Lord Darby laid his hand on his arm. "God's my life!"
cried he, "we are vanishing away. Look, look!"
Sir Osborne turned to the glass, and beheld the three figures he had
before seen plain and distinctly, now growing dimmer and more dim. He
could scarcely believe his sight, and passing his hand before his
eyes, he strove, as it were, to cure them of the delusion. When he
looked again, all was gone, and the mirror offered nothing but a dark
shining blank. Presently, however, a confusion of thin and misty
figures seemed to pass over the glass, and a light appeared to spring
up within itself: gradually the objects took a more substantial form;
the interior of the mirror assumed the appearance of a smaller chamber
than that which they were in, lighted by a lattice window, and in the
centre was seen a female figure leaning in a pensive attitude on a
table. Sir Osborne thought it was like Lady Katrine Bulmer, but the
light coming from behind cast her features into shadow. The moment
after, however, a door of the chamber seemed to open, and he could
plainly distinguish a figure, resembling that of Lord Darby, enter,
and clasp her in his arms, with a semblance of joy so naturally
portrayed, that it was hardly possible to suppose it unreal.
While he yet gazed, the outlines of the figures began to grow confused
and indistinct, and various ill-defined forms floated over the glass.
Gradually, however, they again assumed shape and feature; the mirror
represented a princely hall hung with cloth of gold, and a thousand
gay and splendid figures ranged themselves round the scene. Princes,
and prelates, and warriors, moved before their eyes, as if 'twas all
in life. There might be seen the slight significant look, the animated
gesture, the whisper apart, the stoop of age; the high erect carriage
of knight and noble, and the graceful motion of youth and beauty.
"By heavens!" cried Lord Darby, "there is the Earl of Devonshire, and
the Duke of Suffolk, and the Princess Mary. It is the court of
England! But no! Who are all these?"
Gradually the crowd opened, and two persons appeared, whose apparel,
demeanour, and glance, bespoke them royal.
"Henry himself, as I live!" cried Lord Darby.
"Which? which?" demanded Sir Osborne.
"The one to the right," answered the earl; "the other I know not."
It was the other, however, who advanced, leading forward by the hand a
knight, in whom Sir Osborne might easily distinguish the simulacre of
himself. The prince, whoever he was, seemed to speak, and a lady came
forth from the rest. By the graceful motion, by the timid look, by the
rich light brown hair, as well as by all a lover's feelings, Sir
Osborne could not doubt that it was Constance de Grey. The monarch
took her hand; placed it in that of the knight; the figures grew dim
and the glass misty; but gradually clearing away, it resumed its
original effect, and reflected the hall in which they were, their own
forms standing before the mirror, and the old man, Sir Cesar, sitting
on the ground, with his hands pressed over his eyes. The moment they
turned round, he started up.
"It is done!" cried he; "so now, begone! We shall meet again soon;"
and putting his finger to his lip, as if requiring silence, he led
them out of the hall, and down the stairs, signed them with the cross,
and left them.