Sir Osborne instantly recollected himself, and seeing a lady, who, standing unmasked at the farther end of the hall, bore about her that air of royalty, and that majestic beauty, scarcely touched by time, for which the noble Catherine was famous, he advanced directly towards her, and bent one knee to the ground. Nature had given him somewhat of a poet's inspiration, which came now happily to his aid, and if his verses were not very good, they were at least ready.
"Lady of beauty, queen of grace,
Strangers three have come to thee,
To gaze on thine unclouded face,
Where so many maskers be.
Oh! never shade that brow so high
With the mummers' painted wile.
Sure you keep that lip and eye,
Welcome on your slaves to smile."
"I thank you, fair sir; I thank you," replied the queen, with a pleased and gracious smile: "be most welcome, you and your company. I should know you, and yet I do not. But will you not dance? Choose your fair ladies; and, chamberlain, bid the music sound."
Sir Osborne passed on, and the king and Lord Darby followed.
"Excellent well, my knight! excellent well!" whispered Henry. "Now show your wit in choice of a fair dame. I'faith, one must be keen in these same masks to tell the foul from the fair. However, let us disperse and find the jewels, though they be hid in such strange rinds."
At the word the three maskers took different paths amongst the various figures with which the hall was now nearly filled; Lord Darby and the knight, each in search of the object of his love; while Henry, as yet unrecognised, glided through the apartment, it might be in quest of some fair one also.
For some time Sir Osborne sought in vain, bewildered amongst the crowd of quaint disguises with which he was surrounded. Now he thought he beheld the form of Lady Constance here, and after following it for a moment was called away by the sight of one that resembled her more. That again he gave up, convinced by some turn or some gesture that it was some other. Another presented itself, which perhaps he might have mistaken, but the gay flutter of her manner at once showed that it was not the person he sought. He saw that already Lord Darby had found his partner; the tuning of the musical instruments was over, and mentally cursing his own stupidity, or his own ill-fortune, he was proceeding once more towards the part of the room where stood the queen, with his heart beating between eagerness and vexation, when he beheld a lady, dressed in silver brocade, with a plain satin mask, glide into the hall, and passing by several who spoke to her, approach that spot, as if to take a seat which stood near. Sir Osborne darted forward. He felt that it was her; and, eager to prevent any one intercepting him, almost startled her with the suddenness of his address.
"Fair mask," said the knight, in a voice that trembled with delight and hope, "will you tread a measure with a stranger, for courtesy's sake?"
"I should know your voice," said the lady, in a low tone; "but I can scarce believe I see you here. But one word, to tell me who you are?"
"My motto," replied the knight, "is Constanc-y; my crest, a lady's glove."