“If that is true,—” He did not finish, but stood in a daze. “The council is ended,” he weakly added, and slowly left the chamber, the others filing after him.
CHAPTER XVII.—Disciplined by a Woman.
Lentala’s Odd Mistake. Beela Finds Me Refractory. The Deep-Laid Plan of Gato. Christopher and I Charged With Service to the Old King.
SLEEP held away that night. The revelations of the privy council had been startling. Some things were clear. One was that the king was a shrewd, easy-going, kindly man, vastly wiser than his subjects, and finding it simpler to rule them by pampering their superstitions than by raising them to his own understanding. Another was that he felt himself on the edge of a crisis, saw no way to avert a possible catastrophe, and was facing it with a paralyzing dread.
Lentala, fresh and radiant, brought our breakfast. Except for her color, not a trace of savagery remained about her. Her dress was a simple house-frock of fine white linen, and of a modern style. Her hair was done exactly like Annabel’s.
It did not improve her appearance. Had she been white, there would have been no touch of the incongruous. But in this fresh, sweet daintiness, much of her savage splendor had been sunk, and I felt a keen disappointment. The former Lentala, for all her barbarity, had never seemed an alien, but more a bringing back to me of a deeply rooted principle fundamental in my heritage.
She appeared to expect a compliment; but how could I be otherwise than sincere with her? Our greetings were pleasant; yet her clothes had set a constraint between us.
“You don’t like my dress, Mr. Tudor?” she ruefully asked.