Nell was leaning against the table across the room, quietly observing Portsmouth upon the word-wrack. Her whole manner had changed. She watched with evident delight the play of discomfiture, mingled with contempt, upon the beautiful Duchess’s face.
“Me fat!” she derisively laughed. “Be sure I shall never grow too much so. And have not the stars said I shall ne’er grow old?”
“Your stars are falser than yourself,” tartly snapped the Duchess.
“Mayhap,” said Nell, still gleeful; “but mark you this truth: I shall reign queen of Love and Laughter while I live, and die with the first wrinkle.”
She was interrupted by his Majesty, who, unsuspecting, swaggered into the room in buoyant spirits.
“The King!” exclaimed Nell, as she slyly glanced over her shoulder.
The King looked at one woman and then at the other in dismay and horror.
“Scylla and Charybdis!” he muttered, nervously, glancing about for means of escape. “All my patron-saints protect me!”
Nell was by his side in an instant.
“Good even’ to your Majesty,” she roguishly exclaimed. “How can I ever thank you, Sire, for inviting the Duchess to sup with me! I have been eager to meet her ladyship.”