"But they say I torture folks there!" said the Duke.
"They say so, Sir. They will say anything. But not a reasonable man believes it."
(It was true, indeed, that such gossip went about; but the substance of it was ridiculous. Good fighters do not torture; and no one denied to the Duke the highest pitch of personal courage. He had fought with the greatest gallantry against the Dutch.)
He said nothing to that; but sat brooding.
His closet was a very magnificent chamber; but not so magnificent as he who sat in it. He was but just come from supper, and wore his orders on his coat; but all his dress could not distract those who looked at him from that kingly Stuart face that he had. He was, perhaps, the heaviest looking of them all, with not a tithe of Monmouth's brilliant charm, or the King's melancholy power; yet he too had the air of command and more than a touch of that strange romance which they all had. Until that blood is diluted down to nothing, I think that a Stuart will always find men to love and to die for him. But it was Stuart against Stuart this time; so who could tell with whom the victory would lie?
So I was thinking to myself, when suddenly the Duke looked up.
"Mr. Mallock," he said, "I hear that you have a very persuasive manner with both men and women. There is an exceedingly difficult commission which I wish you would execute for me. You have spoken with the Duchess of Portsmouth?"
"Never, Sir," I said. "I have seen Her Grace in the park only."
"Well; she has thrown her weight against me with the King. God knows why! But I wonder you have not met her?"
"Sir, I never go to Court, by His Majesty's wish."