"It's your condition, not your nature, Simon," Nell was so good as to say. "A man in love is always dull, save to one woman, and she's stark-mad. Come, can you feign an inclination for me, or have you forgot the trick?"
At the moment she spoke the handle of the door turned. Again it turned and was rattled.
"I locked it," whispered Nell, her eyes full of mischief.
Again, and most impatiently, the handle was twisted to and fro.
"Pat, pat, how pat he comes!" she whispered.
A last loud rattle followed, then a voice cried in anger, "Open it, I bid you open it."
"God help us!" I exclaimed in sad perplexity. "It's the King?"
"Yes, it's the King, and, Simon, the piece begins. Look as terrified as you can. It's the King."
"Open, I say, open!" cried the King, with a thundering knock.