Rochester twisted his face in a grimace, and looked appealingly at the King.
"There's no escape; to-day I am a tyrant," said the King.
"Hear then, youths," said Rochester, and his face was smoothed into a pensive and gentle expression. "Love is madness and the only sanity, delirium and the only truth; blindness and the only vision, folly and the only wisdom. It is——" He broke off and cried impatiently, "I have forgotten what it is."
"Why, my lord, you never knew what it is," said the King. "Alone of us here, Mr Dale knows, and since he cannot tell us the knowledge is lost to the world. James, have you any news of my friend M. de Fontelles?"
"Such news as your Majesty has," answered Monmouth. "And I hear that my Lord Carford will not die."
"Let us be as thankful as is fitting for that," said the King. "M. de Fontelles sent me a very uncivil message; he is leaving England, and goes, he tells me, to seek a King whom a gentleman may serve."
"Is the gentleman about to kill himself, Sir?" asked Rochester with an affected air of grave concern.
"He's an insolent rascal," cried Monmouth angrily. "Will he go back to France?"
"Why, yes, in the end, when he has tried the rest of my brethren in Europe. A man's King is like his nose; the nose may not be handsome, James, but it's small profit to cut it off. That was done once, you remember——"
"And here is your Majesty on the throne," interposed Rochester with a most loyal bow.