“To the bottom,” cried the king.
Every one drank off his cup with avidity, anxious to hear the explanation. The king kept the position in which he stood until he saw every cup drained, and then brought his slowly and gracefully to his lips, with the intention of emptying it at one draught. But the moment that it reached them, Mooly sprung up, snatched the cup and wine out of his hand, and threw them on the floor.
“Strike the animal dead,” cried one.
“Kick her out of the hall,” said another.
“Take her out and let her be hung up,” cried a third.
Mooly cowered at her royal master’s feet, as if begging pardon, or begging to remain.
“Let her alone,” said the king; “let us see what the beast means, and if she persists in the outrage.”
He filled his cup of the wine before him, and brought it slowly to his head in the same manner as he did before. He even took it away and brought it back several times, in order to see if she would be provoked to do the like again. But no!—Mooly appeared perfectly satisfied, and suffered her master to drink it off piece-meal. A certain consternation reigned in the royal apartment for some time; sharp arguments followed; and, in the mean time, Angus and the abbot were heard whispering apart, and the one said, “It must be accomplished this night, or abandoned for ever.”
The nobles again took their seats, and the king appeared as formerly to be growing thoughtful and dejected.
“Pray cheer up your heart and be merry, my liege,” said Douglas, “and let not the casual frolic of a pampered animal tend to cast down your majesty’s spirits. Your majesty has not yet drank the extraordinary toast you proposed.”