"Why, Sir," I answered, "there is no jest. I don't know why I laughed, and I pray your pardon humbly."
"Yet there was something in your mind," the King insisted.
"Then, Sir, if I must say it, it was no more than this; if I would not be married in Calais, neither will I be married in Whitehall."
There was a moment's silence. It was broken by Rochester.
"I am dull," said he. "I don't understand that observation of Mr Dale's."
"That may well be, my lord," said Charles, and he turned to Monmouth, smiling maliciously as he asked, "Are you as dull as my lord here, James, or do you understand what Mr Dale would say?"
Monmouth's mood hung in the balance between anger and amusement. I had crossed and thwarted his fancy, but it was no more than a fancy. And I had crossed and thwarted M. de Perrencourt's also; that was balm to his wounds. I do not know that he could have done me harm, and it was as much from a pure liking for him as from any fear of his disfavour that I rejoiced when I saw his kindly thoughts triumph and a smile come on his lips.
"Plague take the fellow," said he, "I understand him. On my life he's wise!"
I bowed low to him, saying, "I thank your Grace for your understanding."