larging on his former topic, "I had
other subjects of apprehension; for it pleased my Lord of Buckingham,
his Grace's father who now bears the title, in his plenitude of Court
favour, to command the pasty to be carried down to the office, and
committed anew to the oven, alleging preposterously that it was better
to be eaten warm than cold."

"And did this, sir, not disturb your equanimity?" said Julian.

"My young friend," said Geoffrey Hudson, "I cannot deny it.--Nature
will claim her rights from the best and boldest of us.--I thought
of Nebuchadnezzar and his fiery furnace; and I waxed warm with
apprehension.--But, I thank Heaven, I also thought of my sworn duty to
my royal mistress; and was thereby obliged and enabled to resist all
temptations to make myself prematurely known. Nevertheless, the Duke--if
of malice, may Heaven forgive him--followed down into the office
himself, and urged the master-cook very hard that the pasty should be
heated, were it but for five minutes. But the master-cook, being privy
to the very different intentions of my royal mistress, did most manfully
resist the order; and I was again reconveyed in safety to the royal
table."

"And in due time liberated from your confinement, I doubt not?" said
Peveril.

"Yes, sir; that happy, and I may say, glorious moment, at length
arrived," continued the dwarf. "The upper crust was removed--I started
up to the sound of trumpet and clarion, like the soul of a warrior
when the last summons shall sound--or rather (if that simile be over
audacious), like a spell-bound champion relieved from his enchanted
state. It was then that, with my buckler on my arm, and my trusty Bilboa
in my hand, I executed a sort of warlike dance, in which my skill and
agility then rendered me pre-eminent, displaying, at the same time
my postures, both of defence and offence, in a manner so totally
inimitable, that I was almost deafened with the applause of all around
me, and half-drowned by the scented waters with which the ladies of the
Court deluged me from their casting bottles. I had amends of his Grace
of Buckingham also; for as I tripped a hasty morris hither and thither
upon the dining-table, now offering my blade, now recovering it, I
made a blow at his nose--a sort of estramacon--the dexterity of which
consists in coming mighty near to the object you seem to aim at, yet not
attaining it. You may have seen a barber make such a flourish with his
razor. I promise you his