“Aye,” said the Cavalier cheerfully, tapping his breast; “and I have here the wherewithal for many more, an I am not mistaken. See, Chitterley, since his Majesty sleepeth so fast, an you can spread the fare without awakening him, so that he may open his eyes upon a pleasant sight. There has been but little pleasantness for the royal glance of late.”
“I will step like a cat, monseigneur,” said Marcelin, quicker to seize the idea than his English comrade.
Whether Charles found it not worth while to rouse himself from the only condition in which he could forget his dismal state, or whether indeed the servants had carried out their task with true noiselessness, he stirred not in his great chair by the fire until Rockhurst, stepping up to him gently, laid on his lap the velvet bag with its snug weight of coin. Then he opened a lazy eye while, instinctively, his long hand closed upon the purse.
The King stared a moment vacantly at his devoted follower, and with a stupendous yawn let his gaze wander round the room.
“Odd’s fish!” he cried, critically weighing the bag; “a purse, my lord, as we live! And a fuller than these fingers have held for many a week!—Am I dreaming, or am I but just awakened from some monstrous nightmare of years? Is this St. Germain once again?—or has fate worked with us benignly while we slept, and is this Whitehall at last?… Why, my merry Rockhurst, this is never a goose I behold, on a Bruges table, flanked by pasty and brawn! Hath our uncle of Spain paid our pension at length—or has our Chancellor of the Exchequer chanced at last upon an Exchequer to draw upon?—Harry, dost thou actually hold in thy hand a brimming goblet? Aye, methinks the fragrance of it already reaches me!”
He broke off his bantering tone to add, as he dropped the purse carelessly into his pocket and extended his hand for the glass:—
“Nay, but, prince of friends, how have such miracles been worked?”
“My liege,” said Rockhurst, with unmoved gravity, “even as I ventured to prophesy: by a laugh, a lie, a fight, a kiss. The fight came first and the kiss came last—and the lie, I’ll warrant, is even now being expounded within the house of a certain mynheer of this town. As for the laugh, your Majesty, nay, the laugh will be between you and me anon when I tell you the tale.… But, Chitterley, bring me a glass of wine.”
Charles, his merriment stayed on his lips by the look of sudden emotion he marked on his host’s face, gazed wonderingly up at him.