Charles treated him with chill civility.
“Why does the man come here without his wife?” he asked De Malfort. “There is a sister, too, fresher and fairer than her ladyship. Why are we to have the shadow without the sun? Yet it is as well, perhaps, they keep away; for I have heard of a visit which was not returned—a condescension from a woman of the highest rank slighted by a trumpery baron’s wife—and after an offence of that kind she could only have brought us trouble. Why do women quarrel, Wilmot?”
“Why are there any men in the world, sir? If there were none, women would live together like lambs in a meadow. It is only about us they fight. As for Lady Fareham, she is adorable, though no longer young. I believe she will be thirty on her next birthday.”
“And the sister? She had a wild-rose prettiness, I thought, when I saw her at Oxford. She looked like a lily till I spoke to her, and then flamed like a red rose. So fresh, so easily startled. ’Tis pity that shyness of youthful purity wears off in a week. I dare swear by this time Mrs. Kirkland is as brazen as the boldest of our young houris yonder,” with a glance in the direction of the maids of honour, the Queen’s and the Duchess’s, a bevy of chatterers, waving fans, giggling, whispering, shoulder to shoulder with the impudentest men in his Majesty’s kingdom; the men who gave their mornings to writing comedies coarser than Dryden or Etherege, and their nights to cards, dice, and strong drink; roving the streets half clad, dishevelled, wanton; beating the watch, and insulting decent pedestrians; with occasional vicious outbreaks which would have been revolting in a company of inebriated coal-heavers, and which brought these fine gentlemen before a too lenient magistrate. But were not these the manners of which St. Evremond lightly sang—
“‘La douce erreur ne s’appelait point crime;
Les vices délicats se nommaient des plaisirs.’”
“Mistress Kirkland has an inexorable modesty which would outlive even a week at Whitehall, sir,” answered Rochester. “If I did not adore the matron I should worship the maid. Happily for the wretch who loves her I am otherwise engaged!”
“Thou insolent brat! To be eighteen years of age and think thyself irresistible!”
“Does your Majesty suppose I shall be more attractive at six and thirty?”
“Yes, villain; for at my age thou wilt have experience.”
“And a reputation for incorrigible vice. No woman of taste can resist that.”