hee, thou grinning fat man."
She glided quickly into a corner of the old fireplace, where she could
not be observed so readily.

The Duchess of Portsmouth entered, with all the haughty grandeur of a
queen. She glanced about contemptuously, and her lip could be seen to
curl, even through the veil which partially hid her face.

"This _bourgeois_ place," she said, "to sup with the King! It
cannot be! _Garcon!_"

"What a voice," reflected Nell, in her hiding-place, "in which to sigh,
'I love you.'"

"Barbarous place!" exclaimed Portsmouth. "His Majesty must have lost
his wits."

She smiled complacently, however, as she reflected that the King might
consent even within these walls and that his sign-manual, if so secured,
would be as binding as if given in a palace.

"_Garcon!_" again she called, irritably.

Nell was meanwhile inspecting her rival from top to toe. Nothing escaped
her quick eye. "I'll wager her complexion needs a veil," she muttered,
with vixenish glee. "That gown is an insult to her native France."

"_Garcon_; answer me," commanded Portsmouth, fretfully.

The landlord had danced about her grace in such anxiety to please that
he had displeased. He had not learned the courtier's art of being ever
present, yet never in the way.

"Yes, your ladyship," he stupidly repeated again and again. "What would
your ladyship?"

"Did a prince leave commands for supper?" she asked, impatiently.

"No, your ladyship," he replied, obsequiously. "A ragged rogue ordered a
banquet and then ran away, your ladyship."

"How, sirrah?" she questioned, angrily, though the poor landlord had
meant no discourtesy.

"If he knew his guests, he would ne'er return," softly laughed Nell.

"_Parbleu_," continued Portsmouth, in her French, impatient way,
now quite incensed by the stupidity of the landlord, "a cavalier would
meet me at Ye Blue Boar Inn; so said the messenger."

She suddenly caught sight of Nell, whose biting curiosity had led her
from her hiding-place. "This is not the rendezvous," she reflected
quickly. "We were to sup alone."

The landlord still bowed and still uttered the meaningless phrase: "Yes,
your ladyship."

The Duchess was at the end of her patience. "_Mon Dieu_," she
exclaimed, "do you know nothing, sirrah?"

The moon-face beamed. The head bowed and bowed and bowed; the hands were
rubbed together graciously.

"Good lack, I know not; a supper for a king was ordered by a ragged
Roundhead," he rep