Of course Meg saw nothing so plainly as how beautiful her
little Marquis looked among the attendant young nobles, and I must
own that he was a very fine fellow, and wonderfully little spoiled
considering the sort of folk with whom he lived. On that ceremonial
day there came doleful tidings to us. Worcester had been the scene
of a massacre rather than a fight, and my brother was in despair and
misery at not having been there--as if his single arm could have
retrieved the day!--thinking shame of himself for resting at home
while sword and block were busy with our friends, and no one knew
where the King was. I know not whether it were the daunting of his
hopes or the first beginning of the winter cold; but from that time
he began to decline from the strength he had gained while I had him
to myself in Holland, free from all pressing cares.
However, he still rode out in attendance on the Duke of Gloucester,
who always preferred him to any other of the gentlemen who waited on
the Queen. One evening in October he stayed out so late that we had
begun to be anxious at his being thus exposed to the air after
sunset, when he came up to our salon in high spirits, telling us that
he had been returning with the Duke from a ride on the Amiens Road
when they saw some altercation going on at the barriers between the
guard and a gentleman on horseback, shabby and travel-stained, whom
they seemed unwilling to admit.
Pages:
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387