Conversation more sober ensuing, it appeared that Ned, who already, before he broke his fast, had visited her, was neither now willing to leave me, nor, with the present load of care upon him, to submit again so soon to the searching scrutiny of his mother's eyes a countenance that was, he well knew, of a very treacherous honesty. For, if he saw little need to conceal our betrothal from her, he had no mind she should get wind of his disfavor with His Highness of Orange. Whereupon my father, who seemed, indeed, to preside at the feast of our joy with a tenderness almost feminine, undertook an embassage to my Lady Mary, hoping, he said, by discovery of the betrothal, to close her eyes for a while to all other troubles.
He stoutly refused every offer of assistance to his walking, saying it were best with all the pains of a penitent to approach so awful a shrine; and so, cheerily waving one hand and leaning with the other upon his stick, made his way limping to the house.
It was not long after his leaving us that, although deep in discussion of matters vastly entertaining at least to those engaged, I heard the rapid approach of a horse, of which, with his rider, I very soon had a glimpse as they passed the open space between the last trees of the avenue and the southeastern corner of the house.
Now, while Ned spoke many things most sweet to hear, and I, though finding my power of words strangely contracted since my father's leaving us, now and again made shift to answer him; and while he was about opening that question, to this day not with conclusion to be answered, of when first each did begin to love the other, some part of me was all the time with secret clamor asking who this mounted visitor should be. What if he were from the Prince? And so, though I heard most of his words, and held them all dear, I was at length in such a fever of desire to know more of what was toward within doors, that I told Ned my presence was needed in the house, as much in his own interest as of the visitor, and my father that must entertain him. And I would not let him conduct me, for I wished (though to him I said nothing of this), in case of news, ill or good, in the matter of his standing with His Highness, to know it first myself; so begged him where he was to await me a while, and left him, I doubt not, in much amaze at the contradictions of the feminine nature. At least it was so that I was fain to hope he explained a behavior that may well have appeared whimsical in me; having not infrequently observed that this is with some of our masters a means much favored to avoid the pains of understanding our vagaries even the most reasonable.
Sir Michael, being admitted to Lady Mary's presence, had come no nearer his purpose than some prefatory compliments and good wishes, when he was hastily called away to meet a gentleman that was come on urgent business from His Highness of Orange. Repairing at once to the great hall, he found before him M. de Rondiniacque, just dismounted and entered, looking with a wryness of countenance ill-concealed upon the tankard of ale held out to him by little Prue.
Perceiving his host, the French officer politely waved aside the refreshment, and bowed to Sir Michael with great reverence and all the grace of the Paris manner. Now his name, as was but natural, when it reached my father's ears, was become twisted out of all shape.
"You are welcome," says Sir Michael, returning his obeisance. "I address, I believe, M. le Lieutenant—" and there stuck.
"Jean-Marie Godemar de Rondiniacque, at your service," replied that gentleman. "My poor name, Sir Michael, has great terror for unwonted tongues!"
"'T is then a fit companion to your sword, M. de Rondiniacque," says Sir Michael, in the older fashion of courtly compliment.
M. de Rondiniacque bowed again. "It is well if they agree, sir," he said, "for they are my whole estate."