They were at the end of the avenue, but, before passing through the gateway, Lord Derwentwater said to the prince, “Your majesty had best dismount here, and get rid of the postboy.”
On this the prince sprang from his horse, while the gate-porter, by the earl's directions, paid the postboy, and took the portmanteau from him.
Having received a handsome gratuity for himself, the man then departed with his horses in tolerably good humour, though aware of the earl's hospitality he had hoped to be regaled in the servants' hall.
“Meanwhile, Lord Derwentwater and his brother having alighted, the party walked across the great quadrangular court—the prince pausing occasionally to look around, and express his admiration.
“By my faith! cousin, you have a splendid house,” he cried. “'Tis quite a palace.”
“Why not take possession of it, my liege?” replied Derwentwater.
“You tempt me greatly. But no! I must not be diverted from my purpose.”
They then ascended the magnificent flight of stone steps, and entered a spacious hall—the door being thrown open by a butler and several other servants in the earl's rich livery.
“Little did I dream, when I set forth an hour ago, whom I should bring back as my guest,” observed Lord Derwentwater.
“You have often told me at Saint Germains how rejoiced you would be to see me here,” rejoined the prince; “and now you perceive I have taken you at your word. But you are very remiss, cousin—pray present your brother to me!”