“Let us first go see whether the two stories agree,” says Esmond; and went in at the passage and opened the door into what had been his own chamber now for wellnigh five-and-twenty years. A candle was still burning, and the prince asleep dressed on the bed—Esmond did not care for making a noise. The prince started up in his bed, seeing two men in his chamber: “Qui est là?” says he, and took a pistol from under his pillow.
“It is the Marquis of Esmond,” says the colonel, “come to welcome his Majesty to his house of Castlewood, and to report of what hath happened in London. Pursuant to the king's orders, I passed the night before last, after leaving his Majesty, in waiting upon the friends of the [pg 456] king. It is a pity that his Majesty's desire to see the country and to visit our poor house should have caused the king to quit London without notice yesterday, when the opportunity happened which in all human probability may not occur again; and had the king not chosen to ride to Castlewood, the Prince of Wales might have slept at St. James's.”
“'Sdeath! gentlemen,” says the prince, starting off his bed, whereon he was lying in his clothes, “the doctor was with me yesterday morning, and after watching by my sister all night, told me I might not hope to see the queen.”
“It would have been otherwise,” says Esmond, with another bow; “as, by this time, the queen may be dead in spite of the doctor. The Council was met, a new treasurer was appointed, the troops were devoted to the king's cause; and fifty loyal gentlemen of the greatest names of this kingdom were assembled to accompany the Prince of Wales, who might have been the acknowledged heir of the throne, or the possessor of it by this time, had your Majesty not chosen to take the air. We were ready; there was only one person that failed us, your Majesty's gracious——”
“Morbleu! monsieur, you give me too much Majesty,” said the prince; who had now risen up and seemed to be looking to one of us to help him to his coat. But neither stirred.
“We shall take care,” says Esmond, “not much oftener to offend in that particular.”
“What mean you, my lord?” says the prince, and muttered something about a guet-à-pens, which Esmond caught up.
“The snare, sir,” said he, “was not of our laying; it is not we that invited you. We came to avenge, and not to compass, the dishonour of our family.”
“Dishonour! Morbleu! there has been no dishonour,” says the prince, turning scarlet, “only a little harmless playing.”
“That was meant to end seriously.”