I felt, “Come, there is no mistake here, Harry; and it is only another freak of fortune, who is now in good humour with you.”
The king, who was a fine, tall, well-built man, with a large, bushy moustache, possessed, though not handsome, a most pleasing expression; his utterance was very rapid, and his English none of the best, so that it was with the greatest difficulty I contrived to follow his questions, which came thick as hail upon me. After some commonplaces about the roads, the weather, and the season, his majesty said,
“My Lord Callonby has been residing some time here. You know him?” And then, not waiting for a reply, added, “Pleasant person—well informed—like him much, and his daughters, too, how handsome they are.” Here I blushed, and felt most awkwardly, while the king continued.
“Hope they will remain some time—quite an ornament to our court. Monsieur le Comte, his excellency will dance?” I here muttered an apology about my sprained ankle, and the king turned to converse with some of the ladies of the court. His majesty’s notice brought several persons now around me, who introduced themselves; and, in a quarter of an hour, I felt myself surrounded by acquaintances, each vieing with the other in showing me attention.
Worse places than Munich, Master Harry, thought I, as I chaperoned a fat duchess, with fourteen quarterings, towards the refreshment-room, and had just accepted invitations enough to occupy me three weeks in advance.
“I have been looking every where for your excellency,” said the grand mareschal, bustling his way to me, breathless and panting. “His majesty desires you will make one of his party at whist, so pray come at once.”
“Figaro qua, Figaro la,” muttered I. “Never was man in such request. God grant the whole royal family of Bavaria be not mad, for this looks very like it. Lady Jane had better look sharp, for I have only to throw my eyes on an archduchess, to be king of the Tyrol some fine morning.”
“You play whist, of course; every Englishman does,” said the king. “You shall be my partner.”
Our adversaries were the Prince Maximilian, brother to his Majesty and the Prussian Ambassador. As I sat down at the table, I could not help saying in my heart, “now is your time, Harry, if my Lord Callonby should see you, your fortune is made.” Waller passed at this moment, and as he saluted the king, I saw him actually start with amazement as he beheld me—“better fun this than figuring in the yellow plush, Master Jack,” I muttered as he passed on actually thunder-struck with amazement. But the game was begun, and I was obliged to be attentive. We won the first game, and the king was in immense good humour as he took some franc pieces from the Prussian minister, who, small as the stake was, seemed not to relish losing. His majesty now complimented me upon my play, and was about to add something when he perceived some one in the crowd, and sent an Aide de camp for him.
“Ah, my Lord, we expected you earlier,” and then said some words in too low a tone for me to hear, motioning towards me as he spoke. If Waller was surprised at seeing me where I was, it was nothing to the effect produced upon the present party, whom I now recognized as Lord Callonby. Respect for the presence we were in, restrained any expression on either side, and a more ludicrous tableau than we presented can scarcely be conceived. What I would have given that the whist party was over, I need not say, and certainly his majesty’s eulogy upon my play came too soon, for I was now so “destrait and unhinged,” my eyes wandering from the table to see if Lady Jane was near, that I lost every trick, and finished by revoking. The king rose half pettishly, observing that “Son Excellence a apparement perdu la tete,” and I rushed forward to shake hands with Lord Callonby, totally forgetting the royal censure in my delight at discovering my friend.