CHAPTER XXIX
THE KING'S PLEASURE
My Lady Kirke was all agog.
Pierre Radisson was her "dear sweet savage," and "naughty spark," and "bold, bad beau," and "devilish fellow," and "lovely wretch!"
"La, Pierre," she cries, with a tap of her fan, "anybody can go to the king's levee! But, dear heart!" she trills, with a sidelong ogle. "Ta!—ta! naughty devil!—to think of our sweet savage going to Whitehall of an evening! Lud, Mary, I'll wager you, Her Grace of Portsmouth hath laid eyes on him——"
"The Lord forbid!" ejaculates Pierre Radisson.
"Hoighty-toighty! Now! there you go, my saucy spark! Good lack! An the king's women laid eyes on any other man, 'twould turn his head and be his fortune! Naughty fellow!" she warns, with a flirt of her fan. "We shall watch you! Ta-ta, don't tell me no! Oh, we know this gâité de coeur! You'll presently be intime o' Portsmouth and Cleveland and all o' them!"
"Madame," groans Pierre Radisson, "swear, if you will! But as you love me, don't abuse the French tongue!"
At which she gave him a slap with her fan.