lined
to bear his commission through a disapproval of his reasons for granting
me the favour? But when I came near I fell into the liveliest fear that
my lord had done this very thing; for the King was smiling
contemptuously, Buckingham laughing openly, and the gentleman with the
plaster regarding me with a great and very apparent curiosity. My lord,
meanwhile, wore a propitiatory but doubtful air, as though he prayed but
hardly hoped a gracious reception for me. Thus we all stood a moment in
complete silence, I invoking an earthquake or any convulsion of nature
that should rescue me from my embarrassment. Certainly the King did not
hasten to do me this kindly service. He grew grave and seemed
displeased, nay, he frowned most distinctly, but then he smiled, yet
more as though he must than because he would. I do not know how the
thing would have ended if the Duke of Buckingham had not burst out
laughing again, at which the King could not restrain himself, but began
to laugh also, although still not as though he found the jest altogether
to his liking.

"So, sir," said the King, composing his features as he addressed me,
"you are not desirous of bearing my commission and fighting my enemies
for me?"

"I would fight for your Majesty to the death," said I timidly, but with
fervour.

"Yet you are on the way to ask leave to resign your commission. Why,
sir?"

I could not answer; it was impossible to state my reason to him.

"The utility of a woman's help," observed the King, "was apparent very
early in the world's history. Even Adam was glad of it."

"She was his wife, Sir," interposed the Duke.

"I have never read of the ceremony," said the King. "But if she were,
what difference?"

"Why, it makes a great deal of difference in many ways, Sir," laughed
Buckingham, and he glanced with a significance which I did not
understand at the boy who was waiting near with a weary look on his
pretty face.

The King laughed carelessly and called, "Charles, come hither."

Then I knew that the boy must be the King's son, afterwards known as
Earl of Plymouth, and found the meaning of the Duke's glance.

"Charles, what think you of women?" the King asked.

The pretty child thought for a moment, then answered, looking up,

"They are very tiresome creatures, Sir."

"Why, so they are, Charles," said the King gravely.

"They will never let a thing alone, Sir."

"No, they won't, Charles, nor a man either."

"It's first this,