"Ah! cest admirable!" sighed d'Elboeuff.
"Why, thou seemest to relish it pretty much as a cat liketh mustard."
"Oui!" smiled the Frenchman, who did not understand him.
"And how fares my noble friend, Coldinghame?" asked the Earl of his brother roué.
"Weel enow; but sick of dangling about this court, which is such a mess of intrigue."
"Tush! Bethink thee, the queen hath the wardship of many a fair heiress, and may bestow on thee a handsome wife."
"Bah! like my Lord of Morton, I care not for a handsome wife"—
"Unless she belong to another," said Ormiston, coarsely closing the sentence.
"By the rood! a good jest and a merry," laughed Bothwell; but Morton's olive cheek glowed with anger.
"Be not chafed, my lord," said Ormiston; "by cock and pie! I spoke but in boon fellowship. Drink with me! This Rochelle is famously spiced, and stirred with a rosemary sprig for good-luck."