Read The Young Duke Page 12


  CHAPTER XII.

  _Royal Favour_

  THERE was a brilliant levee, all stars and garters; and a splendiddrawing-room, all plumes and _seduisantes_. Many a bright eye, as itsowner fought his way down St. James's Street, shot a wistful glance atthe enchanted bow-window where the Duke and his usual companions, SirLucius, Charles Annesley, and Lord Squib, lounged and laughed, stretchedthemselves and sneered: many a bright eye, that for a moment pierced thefuturity that painted her going in state as Duchess of St. James.

  His Majesty summoned a dinner party, a rare but magnificent event, andthe chief of the house of Hauteville appeared among the chosenvassals. This visit did the young Duke good; and a few more might havepermanently cured the conceit which the present one momentarily calmed.His Grace saw the plate, and was filled with envy; his Grace listened tohis Majesty, and was filled with admiration. O, father of thy people! ifthou wouldst but look a little oftener on thy younger sons, their moralsand their manners might be alike improved.

  His Majesty, in the course of the evening, with his usual good-nature,signalled out for his notice the youngest, and not the leastdistinguished, of his guests. He complimented the young Duke on theaccession to the ornaments of his court, and said, with a smile, thathe had heard of conquests in foreign ones. The Duke accounted for hisslight successes by reminding his Majesty that he had the honour ofbeing his godson, and this he said in a slight and easy way, not smartor quick, or as a repartee to the royal observation; for 'it is notdecorous to bandy compliments with your Sovereign.' His Majesty askedsome questions about an Emperor or an Archduchess, and his Graceanswered to the purpose, but short, and not too pointed. He listenedrather than spoke, and smiled more assents than he uttered. The King waspleased with his young subject, and marked his approbation by conversingwith that unrivalled affability which is gall to a Roundhead andinspiration to a Cavalier. There was a _bon mot_, which blazed with allthe soft brilliancy of sheet lightning. What a contrast to the forkyflashes of a regular wit! Then there was an anecdote of Sheridan--theroyal Sheridaniana are not thrice-told tales--recounted with thatcurious felicity which has long stamped the illustrious narrator as aconsummate _raconteur_. Then----but the Duke knew when to withdraw; andhe withdrew with renewed loyalty.