It must be confessed that, in spite of his long association with the British aristocracy, the bosom of the valiant Russell heaved with strange emotions, and his heart quaked with unusual throes, at the prospect of this interview. As his host claimed to be "King," he would naturally expect to be treated as such. But how would that be? Of the etiquette of courts Russell had no knowledge whatever. From French novels which he had read he had a vague idea that people said "Sire" when addressing majesty, and got on their knees to kiss royal hands when first introduced. But farther than this our good Russell's knowledge did not lead him, nor was his imagination able to convey him. He could only conjecture in the vaguest possible way, and wait as patiently as possible for the hour of the momentous interview.
The appointed time arrived. He was waited on by six men: all were armed. Russell felt an involuntary trepidation at this sight, which reminded him of events, in his reading, where armed men came in this way to lead some wretched prisoner off to execution. However, he succeeded in plucking up his courage sufficiently to follow them. His own attire, certainly, did not a little toward inspiring him with fortitude, and the brilliant uniform of a general officer with golden epaulettes, gold stripes, gold buttons, gold lace, gold hatband, gold collar, gorgeous hat, resplendent feathers, and rattling, clanking sword, all served to stimulate him and rouse him to the heroic mood.
He was led by the men to the grand hall in which he had been before. Here, around the sides, were gathered a large number of men, all armed, and, though ill-dressed, still presenting a very impressive appearance. In the middle of the hall was a table on which a dinner was spread. All around a hundred torches flared and flamed, and from them vast clouds of pitchy smoke rolled aloft into the vaulted ceiling. At one end there was a raised seat, and on that raised seat there was a figure clothed in a military garb and infolded in a military cloak. Toward this figure Russell was led.
Now, Russell was so overawed by the wild scene, by the armed men, and, above all, by the thought of the royal presence and the royal eye, that he dared not look up, but kept his eyes humbly on the floor, and in this way advanced. On reaching the aforesaid figure our Russell fell upon his knees, and seizing the hand of said figure, proceeded to kiss it with much vigor, when suddenly a familiar voice sounded in his ears, and looking up, he felt like Lalla Rookh at the discovery of Feramorz, for he found that this royal personage was none other than the Carlist chief.
"Rise, me lord," said the well-known voice. "We are glad to recayve ye in our r'y'l prisince. We cud give ye betther intertainmint in our r'y'l palace av the Escurial, only thim thayves av rebels won't let us. But we can maintain our state here in these sayquesthered mountains, an', begorra, we have a throne in the hearts av a bowld pisintry."
By this time Russell had risen to his feet, and stood there bowing over and over again.
"His Majesty" rose.
"I'm not overfond," said he, "me lord, av state etiquette, though our ancistors were divils av fellers at it. What I loike is a good dinner, an' a glass av somethin' warrum, an' a pipe afther all. Ye've heard the owld song:
"'Oh, a taste av salt an' a plante av praties,
An a dhrop av whiskey to wash thim down,
An' a tasty dhuidheen to help digistion—
That's the fashion in Limerick town.'"
It had already caused some surprise to Russell that a Spanish chieftain should speak English with the Irish accent; but now to find one who claimed to be the King of Spain lightly trolling an Irish ditty to a rollicking tune was, to say the least, just a little unusual. It occurred to him, however, that "His Majesty" must have learned his English from an Irishman; and further thought showed him that such a fact was perfectly natural, since, being a Catholic, he had of course employed a Catholic tutor, who was almost certain to be an Irishman. Which conclusion led to another, namely, that the Catholic princes and nobles of Europe, including the Pope himself and the College of Cardinals, if they speak English at all, speak it with more or less of an Irish brogue.