“Two! Two! Only two!” decisively exclaimed Charles. “A man is an extravagant fool who dines more. The third is expensive and in the way. Eh, landlord?”
The King winked gaily at the landlord, who grinned in response and dropped his eyes more respectfully.
“Two, sir,” acquiesced the landlord.
“Aye, mine host, thou art favoured beyond thy kind,” laughed Charles, knowingly, as he dwelt upon the joys of a feast incognito alone with Nell. “A belated goddess would sup at thy hostelry.” The landlord’s eyes grew big with astonishment. “I will return. Obey her every wish, dost hear, her every wish, and leave the bill religiously to me.” Charles swaggered gaily up the steps to the entry-way and out the door.
The moon-face of the inn-keeper grew slowly serious. He could not reconcile the shabby, road-bespattered garments of the strange cavalier with his princely commands.
“Body o’ me!” he muttered, lighting one by one the candles in the room, till the rafters fairly glowed in expectation of the feast. “Roundhead-beggar, on my life! Turbot and capons and the best vintage! The King could not have better than this rogue. Marry, he shall have the best in the larder; but Constable Swallow shall toast his feet in the kitchen, with a mug of musty ale to make him linger.”
The corners of the mouth in the moon-face ascended in a chuckle.
“His ragged lordship’ll settle the bill very religiously,” he thought, “or sleep off his swollen Roundhead behind the bars.”
He passed into the kitchen and gave the order for the repast. As he returned, there was a tap at the door; and he hastened to the window.
“Bless me, a petticoat!” he cried. “Well, he’s told the truth for once. She’s veiled. Ashamed of her face or ashamed of him.”