The Princess smiled; for she not unwillingly mixed herself with the small policy of her husband's court, and took some pleasure in the cunning parts of diplomatic intrigue. She made no answer, however, and Lovet proceeded:--
"If ever there was a gallant and chivalrous spirit in this world it is my cousin Algernon's. To serve a lady with his sword, or his heart's best blood, would be the pride of his life, provided he did not fear that by so doing he would bind himself in somewhat too strong a chain. At your first call, the spirit of his race and his name will rise to defend your cause before the world. A Lady, his Princess, the love of all hearts, the admiration of all eyes, would find a right willing servant, and one who in the camp, or court, or counsel, could do great deeds. Ready and willing, I take upon myself to say, he would be, if one fair lady's name was not mentioned in your train."
The Princess mused, and seemed somewhat embarrassed. "I have always intended," she said, "that if we go--of which I as yet know nothing--Agnes should go with me; I have told her so. She would look upon it as a slight if I did not take her. She has been to me almost as a sister, since I have been here--but yet I will speak with her; for much must be sacrificed for a great object."
"Nay, your Highness, speak with her not," answered Lovet, laughing; "leave her not behind. Once he has promised you the service of his sword, he will not break his word, nor withdraw from the contract; but there is no need, in naming those who are to accompany you, that all shall be mentioned at the first. Omit some names, which may be added afterwards as you may think fit. Heaven forefend that a high princess shall not have right and title to change her mind seven times a day, as well as a washerwoman's daughter!"
"I understand," answered Elizabeth, laughing, "I understand; but you think, then, he will not take flight if he finds that this fair dangerous little friend of mine is one of the train, after all?"
"No fear, no fear," replied Lovet; "once promised, he is yours for life or death; and good faith! to say the truth, 'tis fair this lady should be of the party. When he once finds her sweet companionship fixed upon him beyond the possibility of escape, he will yield himself gaily to his fate, put on the Celadon, and humanize himself a little, which is all that he wants to make him perfect in his way. Never was statue, or hewn block of stone, from Lot's wife down to the works of Praxiteles, more cold or uncomfortable as a companion than my good cousin Algernon, solely from his lamentable fear of giving way to the fire in his own heart. For my part, I think a little honest love gives the crowning touch to all excellence. With the virtue which the old Romans attributed to the fine arts, it softens manners, purifies the heart and spirits, elevates the character, and takes from us that touch of the wild beast, which is always to be found in what my great-grandmother, who was a Lollard,--Heaven keep her from purgatory!--used to call 'the natural man.'"
"I believe it does, sir," answered the Electress, amused, and even pleased, with the strange picture his conversation displayed of many qualities apparently very opposite, and not knowing that all which seemed good was thrown in to make the dish suit the palate of the person to whom it was presented,--"I believe it does; but it must be, as you say, honest love to do so."
"Well, beautiful princess," replied Lovet, with a low laugh that he could not suppress,--one of those light, demoralizing, satanic laughs, which attack virtuous principles, unassailable by any argument--"I only speak of honest love. The thought of nought else could ever enter into my good cousin's heart; he is as pure and innocent as what Will Shakspeare calls a sucking dove; and that love, when he finds he cannot escape from it, will be a chivalrous bond to your court and service for ever."
"And your own love, Master Lovet," asked the Princess; "You don't suppose I have been blind to your devotion to a certain fair lady? What of your own love?"
"Oh, immaculate and high," answered Lovet, with his sneering smile; "the pure conception of enthusiastic devotion--a passion, like the flame on Vesta's altar, burning for ever with a holy light--no smoke, high Princess, no red and fiery glare, but blue and thin and cold, like the flame of spirits on a sponge--quite spiritual, quite spiritual, I can assure you"--and he laughed again in bitter mockery of the romantic character of the age, which could conceive that love can be separated from the fire that is its life. "Surely, surely, bright lady, if others may be permitted to play Strephons, I am not to be blamed if I Celadon it a little, though the languishing eyes of the Countess of Laussitz do look as if they would wake the terrestrial Eros, rather than the celestial."