“Yes, yes, at midnight!” muttered the king. “At midnight the carnival is at an end; and we shall tear off our mask, and show our wrathful countenance to the criminals! At midnight we must be over in the green summer-house. Yes, Douglas, we must make haste; for it would be cruel to let the tender Surrey wait still longer. So we will give his Geraldine liberty to leave the feast; and we ourselves must begin our journey. Ah, Douglas, it is a hard path that we have to tread, and the furies and gods of vengeance bear our torches. To work, then—to work!”
The king arose from his seat, and stepped to the queen, to whom he presented his hand with a tender smile.
“My lady, it is late,” said he; “and we, who are king of so many subjects—we are, nevertheless, in turn, the subject of a king. This is the physician, and we must obey him. He has ordered me to seek my couch before midnight, and, as a loyal subject must do, I obey. We wish you, therefore, a good-night, Kate; and may your beautiful eyes on the morrow also shine as starlike as they do to-night.”
“They will shine to-morrow as to-night, if my lord and husband is still as gracious to me to-morrow as to-day,” said Catharine, with perfect artlessness and without embarrassment, as she gave her hand to the king. Henry cast on her a suspicious, searching look, and a peculiar, malicious expression was manifested in his face.
“Do you believe then, Kate, that we can ever be ungracious to you?” asked he.
“As to that, I think,” said she, with a smile, “that even the sun does not always shine; and that a gloomy night always succeeds his splendor.”
The king did not reply. He looked her steadily in the face, and his features suddenly assumed a gentler expression.
Perhaps he had compassion on his young wife. Perhaps he felt pity for her youth and her enchanting smile, which had so often revived and refreshed his heart.
Earl Douglas at least feared so.
“Sire,” said he, “it is late. The hour of midnight is drawing nigh.”