“We are seeking consolation,” suggested Charles, dryly; “for modest souls have small chance to-night, Louise.”
He nodded significantly in the direction of the great ball-room, where the chatter of women’s voices betokened the unrivalled popularity of Nell.
“When did you turn modest, Sire?” slyly inquired Portsmouth, with a look of love.
“When I was out-stripped in audacity by yon Hibernian youth,” replied the King, seriously. “Who is this peacock you are introducing?”
A peal of laughter from without punctuated the King’s speech. It was the reward of a wit-thrust from Nell.
“The Piper the maids would now unmask?” queried Portsmouth, rapturously. “Marry, ’tis the fascinating Beau Adair of Cork, entertaining the ladies. Oh, he is a love, Sire; he does not sulk in corners. See! See!”
She pointed toward the archway, through which Nell was plainly visible. She was strutting jauntily back and forth upon the promenade. It is unnecessary to say that she was escorted by the assembled fair ones.
As Nell caught the eye of the hostess in the distance, she gaily tossed a kiss to her.
“’Sdeath, that I were a woman to hope for one of his languishing smiles,” observed Buckingham.
“Even the old hens run at his call,” sneered the pious James, in discontent; for he too had been deserted by his ladylove and even before the others.