The Duke, as he approached, scanned with a lazy eye the brilliant company gathered round the Queen; an amused smile, made up partly of sarcasm, wholly of insouciance, glimmered in his eyes as he caught the frown, quickly suppressed, which appeared on the Cardinal's shrewd, clever face.
"Nay, His Eminence hath but to look on our Sovereign Lady," he said, as he gallantly kissed the tips of the royal hand, graciously extended to him, "to know that England hath naught to envy Spain."
Mary, with the rapid intuition of the woman who loves, seemed to detect a more serious tone in Wessex' voice than was his wont. She looked inquiringly at him. The thoughts, engendered in his mind by Everingham's earnestness and enthusiasm, had left their shadow over his lighter mood.
"You look troubled, my lord!" she said anxiously.
"What trouble I had Your Grace's presence has already dispelled," he replied gently.
It amused him to watch the discomfited faces of his political antagonists, whose presence now Mary seemed completely to ignore. Her whole personality was transformed in his presence: she looked ten years younger; her heavy, slow movements appeared suddenly to gain in elasticity.
She rose and beckoned to Wessex to accompany her. Neither Noailles nor Scheyfne cared to follow, fearing a rebuke.
His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno alone, seeing her turn towards the gardens, ventured on a remark.
"At what hour will Your Majesty deign to receive the envoy of His Holiness?" he asked unctuously.
"As soon as he arrives," replied the Queen curtly.