"A FRIEND INDEED."
Passing beneath the archway, where Lawrence Lee delivered Stars and
Garters into the charge of a groom, who advanced to receive her in
obedience to a lofty gesture from Mr. Flippet, the two crossed the
courtyard, which was handsomely paved with octagon-shaped black and
white marble flags, and decorated with orange-trees set in huge
painted china tubs, and statuary emblematic of the amusement which
the king came hither to pursue.
Not by the main door, whose low double flight of winding steps was
protected by a rail of cast iron, wrought into grotesque shapes of
centaurs and winged horses, but by a little side postern, half hidden
in one of the irregular angles of the building, Lee and his companion
gained a dark vestibule; ascending thence by a narrow break-neck
flight of stone stairs to a corridor above. Pursuing its tortuous
turns, it brought them in sight of a fair-sized gallery, whose gaily
gilded balustrades and painted walls catching the pale yellow rays of
the morning sun, presented a garish, confusing picture to the
somewhat wearied senses of Lee. It would, indeed, have been a hard
matter to find a resting-place for the eyes amidst the ever moving
throng of richly dressed figures, conspicuous among which were
numbers who were clad like his companion in silver-laced blue livery.
These deftly threaded their way to and fro, bearing salvers of
burnished silver loaded with cut-glass silver-gilt flagons, and
brilliantly painted coffee and chocolate pots of oriental china.
Pressing on after Flippet, or to speak with absolute correctness,
dragging Flippet onward, Lee soon found himself in the very thick of
the chattering, giggling, simpering crowd of fine ladies and
gentlemen who were bidding their good-morrows to each other, and
exchanging sweet compliments.
[Sidenote: An awkward fix.]
"A nice trim he's in," dismally grumbled Flippet to himself, as he
marked the disgustful stares and supercilious smiles of this
butterfly bevy, at the stranger's mud-bespattered attire, and the
terror and alarm with which they snatched their skirts and ruffles
from possibility of contact with it. "A sweet trim truly for an
audience! It's all mighty fine for Master Alworth to say, 'Flippet
do that,' and 'Flippet do this,' as if I was any fetching and
carrying poodle dog; but--" and the gaze of silent despair he was
bestowing on the rich blood-red Genoa velvet curtains which now
stayed their progress, was more eloquent than words.
No one knew better than himself that the brazen gates of an ogre's
castle could more easily be broken through, and a couple of dragons
sooner mollified, than that pair of suave-looking six-foot-high
personages, habited in blue and silver, and wielding slender white
wands in their delicate hands; for did not they guard the sacred way
conducting straight to the private apartments of the king?
[Sidenote: An awkward introduction.]
"And what may be your business this morning, Mr. Flippet?" demanded
one of these personages, "and who may be your friend?" he added,
glaring at Lawrence Lee.
"I--I--" stammered the lackey. "He's no friend of mine. Renounce me
if he is, and--and--it's no business of mine, I assure you, Mr.
Usher, none whatever."
"Then don't meddle with it," laughed Mr. Usher, as he looked far over
Mr. Flippet's head into the gallery's middle distance; "but mind your
manners, and stand out of the way. And you too young gentleman," he
went on addressing Lee. "Don't you see who's a coming?"
He emphasized these words with such a sudden lunge of his staff of
office at the objects nearest to him, which happened to be the
unfortunate Flippet's legs, that the lackey shifted aside in blind
terror, and fell stumbling against Lee. Unprepared for the shock,
Lawrence in his turn must, but for a dexterous twist which regulated
his balance, have lain sprawling his length at the very feet of a
lady, advancing towards the curtained way, accompanied by a group of
some half dozen more ladies, who remained standing a pace or two in
the rear of her, as she came to a forced halt.
[Sidenote: The Queen.]
Fortunately these awkward man[oe]uvres brought about no worse mishap
than the brushing to the floor of a little book which the foremost
lady had held lightly in her hand.
Crimsoning with shame to the roots of his dark curls, Lawrence
stooped down, and picking up the book was about to present it to the
lady, when he felt the skirts of his coat pulled from behind with
such violence, that a second and still more deplorable misadventure
must inevitably have occurred, had not the lady averted it with a
peremptory, but still gracious gesture of her small ivory-white hand.
"Nay, gentlemen, you are unmannerly," she said, in tones of gentle
remonstrance, and whose accents sounded strangely in the ears of the
Hertfordshire farmer. "What is the meaning of this?" she went on,
her dark eyes kindling with indignation and surprise, as they
traversed the circle of ladies and gallants whom the disturbance had
drawn to the spot "What is the meaning of it?" reiterated she,
receiving the book from Lee's hands with a gracious inclination of
her head. The onlookers simpered vacuously at each other.
"Your majesty--" began the Usher.
The Queen! In spite of the strange heart-beating sensation which
then seized Lawrence, his curiosity, or more correctly interest, was
still sufficiently his master, to permit of his bearing away in his
memory the enduring picture of Catharine of Braganza, the not too
happy wife of the merry careless Charles the Second.
[Sidenote: Court ladies.]
How was it that this middle-aged, olive-complexioned Portuguese lady,
whose mouth would have been prettier had not her teeth projected
somewhat too far, and whose chief beauty lay in her magnificent dark
eyes, though indeed her small figure was slender and graceful
enough--brought comely English Ruth Rumbold to his mind? Only so it
did. Could it be some association which similarity of dress brings?
True enough, Ruth's holiday gown and petticoat were but of tiffany,
and her cobweb cambric neckerchief only hem-stitched neat as needle
could do it; whereas the queen's petticoat was of finest silver gray
taffety, bordered like its tawny brown brocade overskirt, with
pinkish silken embroidery, and the broad fine linen collar covering
her shoulders, and reaching close round her slender neck, was edged
with magnificent Spanish lace. For the rest, Lawrence with his
masculine ignorance of women's fallals could not have enlightened you
at all; but had he presumed to ask the surrounding court ladies, they
would have uttered little scornful shrieks, screwed up their red
lips--rosy as salve could make them--tossed back their glossy
straying ringlets, and told him that the queen was a starched old
frump, who stuck to the odiously dowdy fashions of thirty years ago
and more, when melancholy Charles the First was king. Yet perhaps
after all, it was not the modest style of her dress, but something in
the womanly sweet composure of her speech and bearing, that crowns
all women, old and young, plain and beautiful, with a grace of its
own; that reminded Lawrence Lee of his little love, won his
allegiance to the king's wife, and sealed his determination to save
the king, or die in the attempt; let this butterfly swarm sneer and
simper as they pleased, and half draw their rapiers, as they were
beginning to do, muttering: "Insolence," and "Upstart," and the rest
of it; while the ladies giggled hysterically, and cried, "Malapert,"
and the usher continued to stammer on in dire confusion:--"You
see--that is, your Majesty will compre--that is, of course
apprehend--that is to say--ahem--understand that here is some plot--"
[Sidenote: "A plot! A plot!"]
"Ay, ay. Quite so," eagerly interrupted Lawrence, and casting
grateful looks at the usher. "That is it--a plot. A vile, infamous
plot--"
"Sirrah!" frowned the usher. "A plot between this fellow Flippet
here," he went on, again addressing the queen. "Your Majesty knows
him well,"--and he pointed his wand at the now trembling nurse of
Azor and Médor, "and this stranger here, to thrust themselves into
the presence of his Majesty."
"Wherefore?" demanded the queen; and the inquiry was caught up and
echoed on every side.
"Heaven knows," groaned the usher, turning up his eyes.
"And not heaven only," cried the excited young man. "For 'tis a
hellish conspiracy to murder the king--Madam--your Majesty"--he
hurriedly continued, in a voice tremulous with agitation; and utterly
unconscious of the sneers and uplifted hands of the by-standers, he
threw himself at the queen's feet. "'Tis a matter of life and death
to the king. I must see him. You who are all potent with him--"
"Listen to that now!" giggled the ladies.
"Entreat--implore him to grant me an audience," and he caught the
queen's skirt.
"Come, come. This troublesome fellow is too insufferable," cried a
young gentleman springing forward, and seizing Lee roughly by the
shoulder.
[Sidenote: The Queen listens.]
"Hands off, my Lord of Grafton," sternly cried the queen, who saw, or
thought she saw in all this pretended zeal, the veiled intention she
only too frequently experienced, of setting her will at naught. The
young nobleman slunk back, looking crestfallen and louring. "Go
forward, sir," continued Catherine, waving back the rest, and
motioning Lee to precede her along the corridor.
The curtain fell behind them, and Lee found himself alone with the
queen and her ladies.