THE QUEEN’s HEALTH.
He then said it was necessary to drink the queens health. The gentlemen here made no demur, though Mr. de Luc arched his eyebrows in expressive fear of consequences.
“A bumper,” cried the duke, “to the queen’s gentleman-usher.”
They all stood up and drank the queen’s health.
“Here are three of us,” cried the duke, “all belonging to the queen: the queen’s philosopher, the queen’s gentleman usher, and the queen’s son; but, thank heaven, I’m the nearest!”
“Sir,” cried Mr. Stanhope, a little affronted, “I am not now the queen’s gentleman-usher; I am the queen’s equerry, sir.”
“A glass more of champagne here! What are you all so slow for? Where are all my rascals gone? They’ve put me in one passion already this morning. Come, a glass of champagne for the queen’s gentleman-usher!” laughing heartily.
“No, sir,” repeated Mr. Stanhope; “I am equerry, sir.”
“And another glass to the queen’s philosopher!”
Neither gentleman objected; but Mrs. Schwellenberg, who had sat laughing and happy all this time, now grew alarmed, and said, “Your royal highness, I am afraid for the ball!”
“Hold your potato-jaw, my dear,” cried the duke, patting her—but, recollecting himself, he took her hand and pretty abruptly kissed it, and then, flinging it away hastily, laughed aloud, and called out, “There, that will make amends for anything, so now I may say what I will. So here! a glass of champagne for the queen’s philosopher and the queen’s gentleman-usher! Hang me if it will not do them a monstrous deal of good!”
Here news was brought that the equipage was in order. He started up, calling out, “Now, then, for my deuced tailor.”
“O, your royal highness,” cried Mr. de Luc, in a tone of expostulation, “now you have made us droll, you go!”
Off! however, he went. And is it not a curious scene? All my amaze is, how any of their heads bore such libations.