admirers to account. His grace of Dorset, somewhat red and breathless, could contain himself no longer. “By my faith!” he said, “Castlemaine and Hamilton had better look to their laurels. Nay, she has a wit as pretty as that of my lord of Rochester.”

“But cleaner,” put in Jermyn, dryly.

In the meanwhile Monsieur Mornay had received a packet.

“In God’s name, what have you done?” (it ran). “You juggle too lightly with the affairs of nations, Monsieur Mornay. ’Tis a serious offense for you, and means death, or the Bastile[19] at the very least. Here is what you ask. I have no more favors to give. Leave London at once, for when the post from France arrives, I cannot help you.—C.”

[19]

Mornay looked at it curiously, with pursed lips and loose fingers, and then rather a bitter smile came over his features. “’Twas too strong a test of his fellowship,” he muttered; “too strong for his friendship even.”

He shoved the document among his laces and moved to the gallery, where the gentlemen were choosing their partners for the coranto. He sought the Duke at once. His grace was standing near Mistress Barbara’s chair, watching with amusement a discussion of the rival claims of the Earl of St. Albans and Captain Ferrers upon her clemency for the dance.

“Your grace,” said Mornay, “I claim your promise. I am for the coranto.”

“With la belle Barbara? My word, Mornay, you are incurable.”

“A disease, monsieur; I think fatal.” Mistress Barbara beamed upon the Duke. Ferrers[20] made way; he did not see the figure at the heels of Dorset.

[20]

“Madame,” said his grace, with a noble flourish of the arm, “I present to you a gentleman of fine distinction in Germany and England, a gallant captain in the Marine of France—René Bras-de-Fer—Monsieur le Chevalier Mornay.”

During the prelude she had sat complaisantly, a queen in the center of her court. But as Mornay came forward she arose and drew herself to her splendid height, looking at the Frenchman coldly, her lips framed for the words she would have uttered. But Monsieur Mornay spoke first.

“Madame,” he said, quietly, his hand upon his heart, “I am come for the coranto.”

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