Indeed, it seemed as though all the furies had combined to vex me. Yet
still my desire was to learn of Cydaria, for even now I could hardly
believe what Darrell told me. Sitting down by him, I listened while he
related to me what he knew of her; it was little more than the
mentioning of her true name told me--a name familiar, alas, through all
the country, sung in ballads, bandied to and fro in talk, dragged even
into high disputes that touched the nation's fortunes; for in those
strange days, when the world seemed a very devil's comedy, great
countries, ay, and Holy Churches, fought behind the mask of an actress's
face or chose a fair lady for their champion. I hope, indeed, that the
end sanctified the means; they had great need of that final
justification. Castlemaine and Nell Gwyn--had we not all read and heard
and gossiped of them? Our own Vicar had spoken to me of Nell, and would
not speak too harshly, for Nell was Protestant. Yes, Nell, so please
you, was Protestant. And other grave divines forgave her half her sins
because she flouted most openly and with pert wit the other lady, who
was suspected of an inclination towards Rome and an intention to charm
the King into the true Church's bosom. I also could have forgiven her
much; for, saving my good Darrell's presence, I hated a Papist worse
than any man, saving a Ranter. Yes, I would have forgiven her all, and
applauded her pretty face and laughed at her pretty ways. I had looked
to do as much when I came to town, being, I must confess, as little
straightlaced as most young men. But I had not known that the thing was
to touch me close. Could I forgive her my angry humiliation and my sore
heart, bruised love and burning ridicule? I could forgive her for being
all she now was. How could I forgive her for having been once my
Cydaria?

"Well, you must fight," said Darrell, "although it is not a good
quarrel," and he shook my hand very kindly with a sigh of friendship.

"Yes, I must fight," said I, "and after that--if there be an after--I
must go to Whitehall."

"To take up your commission?" he asked.

"To lay it down, Mr Darrell," said I with a touch of haughtiness. "You
don't think that I could bear it, since it comes from such a source?"

He pressed my hand, saying with a smile that seemed tender,

"You're from the country. Not one in ten would quarrel with that here."

"Yes, I'm from the country," said I. "It was in the country that I knew
Cydaria."