“The young person is a retainer of the Countess-Dowager of Derby, so please your Majesty,” said Peveril, in a low tone of voice; “and I am——”
“Hold, hold,” said the King; “this is a dance to another tune, and not fit for a place so public. Hark thee, friend; do thou and the young woman follow Empson where he will conduct thee.—Empson, carry them—hark in thy ear.”
“May it please your Majesty, I ought to say,” said Peveril, “that I am guiltless of any purpose of intrusion——”
“Now a plague on him who can take no hint,” said the King, cutting short his apology. “Oddsfish, man, there are times when civility is the greatest impertinence in the world. Do thou follow Empson, and amuse thyself for a half-hour’s space with the fairy’s company, till we shall send for you.”
Charles spoke this not without casting an anxious eye around, and in a tone which intimated apprehension of being overheard. Julian could only bow obedience, and follow Empson, who was the same person that played so rarely on the flageolet.
When they were out of sight of the King and his party, the musician wished to enter into conversation with his companions, and addressed himself first to Fenella with a broad compliment of, “By the mass, ye dance rarely—ne’er a slut on the boards shows such a shank! I would be content to play to you till my throat were as dry as my whistle. Come, be a little free—old Rowley will not quit the Park till nine. I will carry you to Spring-Garden, and bestow sweet-cakes and a quart of Rhenish on both of you; and we’ll be cameradoes,—What the devil? no answer?—How’s this, brother?—Is this neat wench of yours deaf or dumb or both? I should laugh at that, and she trip it so well to the flageolet.”
To rid himself of this fellow’s discourse, Peveril answered him in French, that he was a foreigner, and spoke no English; glad to escape, though at the expense of a fiction, from the additional embarrassment of a fool, who was likely to ask more questions than his own wisdom might have enabled him to answer.
“Étranger—that means stranger,” muttered their guide; “more French dogs and jades come to lick the good English butter of our bread, or perhaps an Italian puppet-show. Well if it were not that they have a mortal enmity to the whole gamut, this were enough to make any honest fellow turn Puritan. But if I am to play to her at the Duchess’s, I’ll be d—d but I put her out in the tune, just to teach her to have the impudence to come to England, and to speak no English.”
Having muttered to himself this truly British resolution, the musician walked briskly on towards a large house near the bottom of St. James’s Street, and entered the court, by a grated door from the Park, of which the mansion commanded an extensive prospect.
Peveril finding himself in front of a handsome portico, under which opened a stately pair of folding-doors, was about to ascend the steps that led to the main entrance, when his guide seized him by the arm, exclaiming. “Hold, Mounseer! What! you’ll lose nothing, I see, for want of courage; but you must keep the back way, for all your fine doublet. Here it is not, knock, and it shall be opened; but may be instead, knock and you shall be knocked.”