THE CASTLE-BUILDER. 623 



and of the beautious peacock. I eat. Uncommon joy runs coursing 

 through my frame. But soft the emperor desires the honour of a glass 

 of Burgundy with me ; and bowing, I dispatch the contents of a huge 

 goblet down my capacious throat. Soft music plays to the delightful 

 accompaniment of the knife and fork. I smile benignly around me, 

 which creates a disturbance among the courtiers as to which shall 

 have the honour of being most prominent in their acknowledgments. 

 I smile again, which has the effect of restoring order. 



" Your highness's hunt and the brisk air appears to have given 

 edge to your royal tooth," observes my Lord Montravers, the British 

 ambassador. 



" It has, fair sir, and let me hope my Lord Montravers brings a 

 hearty pallet too." 



" Indeed, your highness, I thank you." 



" Montford !" I resume, " how is his Majesty of France ? By the 

 bye, allow me to help you to some curry, my lord." 



".Your highness annihilates all powers of expression by your con- 

 descension. His Majesty, I should say, was considerably better. 

 The fatigues of the coronation, your highness may well imagine, 

 must have been very great. I fervently hope when it shall come to 

 your highness's turn the same ceremony may be attended with 

 different effects." I smile, as in duty bound, when my attention is 



delightedly attracted to the fair face of the Marchioness of , who 



is engaged in an animated conversation with the Count , and 



playing at the same time with the bone of a chicken. Merciful 

 heavens ! what a countenance she has ! She has caught my eye, and 

 starts a little. Sweet creature ! It is all over with the count, I fear. 

 His witticisms fall dead on the ear of my charmer ; in vain he jests 

 in vain he gambols in the pleasant walks of compliment in vain he 

 rises into poetic eloquence in vain he smirks in vain he grins 

 in vain he sighs. Her gentle spirit is lost in the giddy sensations 

 of a first passion; for though married, her husband is half a century 

 older than herself. Her heart has received the fond impression 

 the whole scene is confused around her, and the unhappy count and 

 his enamoured nonsense are knocked on the head together. 



Now to the ball-room, what a blaze of light ! the soul swims in 

 wonder. A thousand, thousand lamps concentrate their lustre upon 

 one spot, for there, in all her loveliness, is seated the marchioness. 

 The count is by her side. A dozen gaping nobles hover around her. 

 She blushes in her beauty. The count seems in the act of imploring 

 her hand for a quadrille. She looks down, and half declining his 

 inconvenient importunity, dispatches him to fetch her handkerchief, 

 which she has left in the banquetting apartment. Away goes his 

 countship on the wings of haste, with such unwonted speed as when 

 an imp, on distant mission sent and lazy at his task, is urged to sub- 

 missive by the quick toe-point of his demon's hoof; in other words, 

 as though the devil kicked him. I advance, and bowing elegantly 

 but respectfully, tender my hand for the ensuing dance. She timidly 

 accepts it. The music sounds, and in a moment I lead my beauteous 

 partner forth. The count returns, and wildly looking about him, at 

 last discovers the marchioness in my custody, and apparently not a 



