第47章

The apartment was smaller than the one in which he stood - though still very large, and instead of being all crimson and gold, was glancing and glittering with blue and silver.These azure hangings were of satin, instead of velvet, and looked quite light and cool, compared to the hot, glowing place where he was.The ceiling was spangled over with silver stars, with the royal arms quartered in the middle, and the chairs were of white, polished wood, gleaming like ivory, and cushioned with blue satin.The table was of immense length, as it had need to be, and flashed and sparkled in the wax lights with heaps of gold and silver plate, cut-glass, and precious porcelain.Golden and crimson wines shone in the carved decanters; great silver baskets of fruit were strewn about, with piles of cakes and confectionery -not to speak of more solid substantials, wherein the heart of every true Englishman delighteth.The queen sat in a great, raised chair at the head, and helped herself without paying much attention to anybody, and "the remainder were ranged down its length, according to their rank - which, as they were all pretty much dukes and duchesses, was about equal.

The spirits of the company - depressed for a moment by the unpleasant little circumstance of seeing one of their number beheaded - seemed to revive under the spirituous influence of sherry, sack, and burgundy; and soon they were laughing, and chatting, and hobnobbing, as animatedly as any dinner-party Sir Norman had ever seen.The musicians, too, appeared to be in high feather, and the merriest music of the day assisted the noble banqueters' digestion.

Under ordinary circumstances, it war rather a tantalizing scene to stand aloof and contemplate; and so the guards very likely felt; but Sir Norman's thoughts were of that room in black, the headsman's axe, and Leoline.He felt he would never see her again - never see the sun rise that was to shine on their bridal;and he wondered what she would think of him, and if she was destined to fall into the hands of Lord Rochester or Count L'Estrange.As a general thing, our young friend was not given to melancholy moralizing, but in the present case, with the headsman's axe poised like the sword of Damocles above him by a single hair, he may be pardoned for reflecting that this world is all a fleeting show, and that he had got himself into a scrape, to which the plague was a trifle.And yet, with nervous impatience, he wished the dinner and his trial were over, his fate sealed, and his life ended at once, since it was to be ended soon.For the fulfillment of the first wish, he had not long to wait; the feast, though gay and grand, was of the briefest, and they could have scarcely been half an hour gone when they were all back.

Everybody seemed in better humor, too, after the refection, but the queen and the dwarf - the former looked colder, and harder, and more like a Labrador iceberg tricked out in purple velvet, than ever, and his highness was grinning from ear to ear - which was the very worst possible sign.Not even her majesty could make the slightest excuse for delaying the trial now; and, indeed, that eccentric lady seemed to have no wish to do so, had she the power, but seated herself in silent disdain of them all, and dropping her long lashes over her dark eyes, seemed to forget there was anybody in existence but herself.

His highness and his nobles took their stations of authority behind the green table, and summoned the guards to lead the prisoner up before them, which was done; while the rest of the company were fluttering down into their seats, and evidently about to pay the greatest attention.The cases in this midnight court seemed to be conducted on a decidedly original plan, and with an easy rapidity that would have electrified any other court, ancient or modern.Sir Norman took his stand, and eyed his judges with a look half contemptuous, half defiant; and the proceedings commenced by the dwarf a leaning forward and breaking into a roar of laughter, right in his face.

"My little friend I warned you before not to be so facetious,"said Sir Norman, regarding him quietly; "a rush of mirth to the brain will certainly be the death of you one of these day.""No levity, young man!" interposed the lord chancellor, rebukingly; "remember, you are addressing His Royal Highness Prince Caliban, Spouse, and Consort of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Miranda!""Indeed! Then all I have to say, is, that her majesty has very bad taste in the selection of a husband, unless, indeed, her wish was to marry the ugliest man in the world, as she herself is the most beautiful of women!"Her majesty took not the slightest notice of this compliment, not so much as a flatter of her drooping eye-lashes betrayed that she even heard it, but his highness laughed until he was perfectly hoarse.

"Silence!" shouted the duke, shocked and indignant at this glaring disrespect, "and answer truthfully the questions put to you.Your name, you say, is Sir Norman Kingsley?""Yes.Has your grace any objection to it?"His grace waved down the interruption with a dignified wave of the hand, and went on with were judicial dignity.

"You are the same who shot Lord Ashley between this and the city, some hours ago?""I had the pleasure of shooting a highwayman there, and my only regret is, I did not perform the same good office by his companion, in the person of your noble self, before you turned and fled."A slight titter ran round the room, and the duke turned crimson.