“Fly, fly!” said Nell. “This way, Charles.”
She ran hastily toward the steps leading to the entry-way; the King assisted her.
“Stop, thief! Stop, thief!” screamed the landlord. “The bill! The bill!”
“Send it to the Duchess!” replied Nell, gaily, as she and the Merry Monarch darted into the night.
The landlord turned in despair, to find the drunken champions of the King’s law in a struggling heap upon the floor. He raised his foot and took out vengeance where vengeance could be found.
CHAPTER XI
In the field, men; at court, women!
It was the evening of Portsmouth’s long-awaited bal masqué. Music filled her palace with rhythmic sound. In the gardens, its mellowing strains died away among the shrubs and over-hanging boughs. In every nook and corner wandered at will the nobility–the richest–the greatest–in the land.