"So you are home again, Mr. Mallock," he said in his cheery voice.
I told him Yes; and that I was come for a good time.
"And His Majesty?" he said. "Have you seen him? He is terribly aged, is he not, this last year."
This priest was a very pleasant-looking fellow, going on for sixty years old, I would say; and, except for his dress, resembled some fine old country-squire. He wore a great brown periwig that set off his rosy face. He was not, I think, a very spiritual man, though good and conscientious, and he meddled not at all with politics or even with religion. He went his way, and let men alone, which, though not very apostolic, is at least very prudent and peaceful. He was fond of country sports, I had heard, and of the classics; and spent his time pretty equally in them both.
"Yes," said I; "the King is a year older since this time twelvemonth."
He laughed loudly.
"There speaks the courtier," he said. "And you come from the Duke?"
I told him Yes.
"And I go to him. Well; good day to you, Mr. Mallock."
* * * * *