IN WHICH “HIS MAJESTY” EXHIBITS THE EMOTIONS OF A ROYAL BOSOM, AND MRS. RUSSELL IS DAZZLED BY A BRILLIANT PROSPECT

On the following morning there was great excitement in Mrs. Russell’s room.  This was caused by one of the female attendants, who had come with the announcement that they were to be honored in a short time by a visit from “His Majesty the King.”

“The King!” exclaimed Mrs. Russell, as soon as Dolores had translated this.  “What King?  Who is he?”

“The King!” said Dolores.  “He can only be one ­one single person ­Don Carlos ­King Charles.”

“King!” cried Mrs. Russell, “and coming here!  Oh dear! what shall I do?  And my dresses! and my jewels! and my toilet articles!  Oh, what ever ­ever ­ever will become of poor me!”

“Oh, auntie, it is useless to think of that,” said Katie.  “You are a prisoner, and no one knows that so well as the ‘King,’ as he calls himself.”

Mrs. Russell, however, felt different, and continued her lamentations until “His Majesty” himself appeared.  Great was their surprise at finding this exalted personage to be no other than their Carlist chief; but they felt still greater surprise when “His Majesty” began to address them in English, with an accent which, though foreign, was still familiar.

“We have called, ladies,” said he, with a magnificent bow, “to wish yez all a good-marnmin’, an’ to ax afther yer healths.”

The ladies murmured some reply which was not very intelligible, in which, however, the words “Your Majesty” occurred quite frequently.

“His Majesty” now seated himself upon the only seat in the room, namely, an oaken bench, and then, with a wave of his royal hand, said: 

“Be sated, ladies, be sated.  Let’s waive all farrums an’ cirimonies, an’ howld conversation like frinds. Be sated, we beg; it’s our r’y’l will, so it is.”

The ladies looked at one another in meek embarrassment.  There was nothing for them to sit on except the rough couches where they had slept; and finally, as there was nothing else to be done, they sat there, Mrs. Russell being nearest to “His Majesty,” while Katie and Dolores sat farther away, side by side, holding one another’s hands, and looking very meek and demure indeed.

“On sich occasions as these,” said “His Majesty,” “we love to dhrop all coort cirimonial, an’ lave behind all our bodygyards, an’ nobles, an’ barr’ns, an’ chamberlains, an’ thim fellers, an’ come in to have a chat like a private gintleman.”

“Oh, ‘Your Majesty!’” said Mrs. Russell, in a languishing tone, “how very, very nice it must be!”

“It is that, bedad; that’s thrue for you,” said “His Majesty.”  “An’ sure it’s meself that’s the proud man this day at findin’ that yez can put a thrue interpretation on our r’y’l Majesty.”

“Ah, sire,” sighed Mrs. Russell, whose eyes fell in shy embarrassment before the dazzling gaze of “His Majesty.”

“Ax,” resumed “His Majesty,” “that seemed like thrayson to our r’y’l person have unfortunately compilled us to detain yez; but we hope it ‘ll be all right, an’ that ye’ll be all well thraited.  We thrust we’ll be able to come to terruños av a satisfactory character.”

A murmur followed from Mrs. Russell.

“Aifairs av state,” continued “His Majesty,” “doesn’t allow us to give full an’ free play to that jaynial timpiramint that’s our chafe an’ layding fayture.  It’s war toime now, so it is, an’ our r’y’l moind’s got to be harsh, oystayre, an’ onbinding.  War wid our raybellious subjix compile us to rayjuice thim to obejience by farree av arrums.”

“An’ now, madame an’ ladies,” continued “His Majesty,” after a brief pause, “I hope yez won’t feel alarrumed at what I’m going to say nixt.  Ye see, our Prime Ministher has conveyed to our r’y’l ear charges against your worthy husband av a traysonable nature.”

“My husband!” exclaimed Mrs. Russell.  “What! my John?  Oh!”

“Yis,” said “His Majesty.”  “I’m towld that he’s been passing himself off as Lord John Russell, the Prime Ministher av England, an’ as the spicial ambassador exthraardinary from our r’y’l cousin, the Quane av England, to invistigate the state av affairs in Spain, wid an’ oi to raycognition av our r’y’l claims.  As such we’ve honored him wid an’ aujence, an’ communicated to him siviral state saycrits av a highly important nature.  At that toime he wint an’ he tuk onjew advantage av our confidince to desayve our r’y’l moind.  Upon the discovery av this offince I felt the kaynist sorrow, not for him, ladies, but for you; an’ it’s for your sakes that I now come here, to assure you av my tinder sympathy, an’ also to ax about the fax.  Is he Lord John Russell?”

Mrs. Russell had at first felt ready to faint at this woful disclosure, but she felt the eye of majesty resting on her, and she saw something there that reassured her.  She afterward told Katie, in confidence, that she could understand exactly how Queen Esther had felt when Ahasuerus held out his sceptre.

“Ah, sire!” she replied.  “Oh, Your Most Gracious Majesty!  He isn’t quite a lord, sire, it’s true, but he’s a gentleman.”

“Sure to glory that’s thrue,” said “His Majesty.”  “Don’t I know it? ­meself does.  He’s a gintleman, so he is, ivery inch av him; an’ yit may I ax, madame, what made him praytind to be a British nobleman?”

“Oh, Your Royal Majesty!” said Mrs. Russell, in deep distress.

“Spake on, fair an’ beaucheous one,” said “His Majesty,” with great gallantry.  “Spake on.  Our r’y’l bosom’s full, so it is, av tindirist sintimints.  Power forth yer story into our r’y’l ear.  Come ­or ­whisht!  Come over here an’ sit by our r’y’l side.”

Saying this, “His Majesty” moved over to one end of the bench and sat there.  Unfortunately, as he placed himself on the extreme end, the bench tilted up and the royal person went down.  Katie, who was always yery volatile, tittered audibly and Dolores did the same.  But “His Majesty” took no offence.  The fact is he laughed himself, and bore it all magnanimously, in fact royally.  He picked himself up as nimbly as a common person could have done.

“Be the powers!” said he, “whin the King loses his gravity, it’s toime for everybody else to lose his.  But come along, jool, come an’ sit by our r’y’l side, an’ tell us the story.”

Mrs. Russell had turned quite pale at the royal fall, and paler yet at the sound of Katie’s laugh, but these words reassured her.  They seemed to show that she, unworthy and humble, was singled out in a special manner to be the mark of royal favor.  And why?  Was it on her own account, or for some other reason?  She chose to consider that it was on her own account.  At the renewed request of “His Majesty,” which was so kind, so tender, and at the same time so flattering, she could no longer resist, but with fluttering heart, shy timidity, and girlish embarrassment, she went over to “His Majesty” and seated herself on the bench by his side.

The manner of Mrs. Russell, which had all the airs and graces of a village coquette, together with the bashfulness of a school miss, seemed to Katie and Dolores, but especially Katie, a very rich and wondrous thing.  She always knew that Mrs. Russell was a gushing, sentimental creature, but had never before seen her so deeply affected.  But on this occasion the good lady felt as though she was receiving the homage of the King, and might be excused if she had all the sensations of a court beauty.

Mrs. Russell now, at “His Majesty’s” renewed request, began to explain the position of her husband.  He was a tailor, it is true, but not by any means a common tailor.  In fact, he associated exclusively with the aristocracy.  He was very eminent in his profession.  He had an army of cutters and stitchers under him.  He was not a tailor, but a Merchant Tailor, and, moreover, he was a member of the Merchant Tailors’ Association, and a man of enormous wealth.

“Sure to glory,” ejaculated “His Majesty,” as Mrs. Russell paused for breath, “I knowed it was just that.  It makes all the differ in the worruld whether a man’s only a tailor wid a small ‘t’ or a Merchant Tailor wid capital letters.”

“We keep our own carriage,” continued Mrs. Russell, bridling and tossing her head, “and we have our own coat of arms and crest ­the Russell arms, you know, the same as the Duke of Bedford.”

“’Dade!” said “His Majesty,” “so ye have the Russell arrums.  I’m acquainted wid His Grace the Juke av Bedford.  I seen him in Paris.  He’s a conniction av me own in a distant way, an’ so you too must be a conniction in a distant way, being a mimber av the House av Russell.”

“Oh, sire!  Oh yes ­may it please Your Gracious Majesty ­yes, I dare say I am.  Oh yes.”  Mrs. Russell was quite overcome at the royal condescension.

“Sure,” continued “His Majesty,” “we r’y’l personages always acknowledge our cousins.  You’re a cousin av mine, a distant one, it’s thrue, but degrays don’t count wid us.  Wanst a cousin, alwavs a cousin.”

“Ah, sire!”

“I niver knowed that ve were a cousin befoor,” said “His Majesty,” “or else I’d saluted ye in our r’y’l fashion, just as our cousin Quane Victoria did whin she acknowledged the Imperor Napoleon.  It’s our way to acknowledge relationship wid the r’y’l kiss.  We call it the Kiss av State.  Allow me, cousin.”

And before the astounded Mrs. Russell understood his intention, “His Majesty” put his arm round her waist, and gave her a sounding smack, which seemed to Katie like the report of a pistol.

This was altogether too much for poor Katie.  She had almost lost control of herself several times already, but now it was impossible to maintain it any longer, and she went off into a wild burst of laughter.  It proved contagious.  Dolores caught it, and clung to Katie, burying her face against her, and half hiding it behind her.

“His Majesty” dropped his “cousin” as though he had been shot, and, turning round, regarded the two young ladies for some minutes in silence, while Mrs. Russell sat rigid with horror at this shocking irreverence.  But in the royal eye, as it rested on Katie, there was a merry twinkle, until at length the contagion seized upon “His Majesty” himself, and he too burst forth into peals of laughter.  After this even Mrs. Russell joined in, and so it happened that the King and the three ladies enjoyed quite a pleasant season.

The King at length recovered from his laughing fit, and drew himself up as though preparing for business.

“Ye see,” said he, “Misther Russell has committed an offince against our r’y’l prayrogatives, an’ ayven his being our cousin doesn’t help him, so it doesn’t, for ye see it’s a toime av danger ­the habeas corpus is suspindid, thrial by jury’s done up; there’s only martial law, an’, be jabers, there’s a coort-martial in session at this blessed momint in the room overhead.”

“Oh, sire,” exclaimed Mrs. Russell, clasping her hands, “they’re not sitting on my poor John!”

“Sure an’ it’s just him, an’ divil a one else, so it is; an’ it ’ud be mesilf that ’ud be proud to git him off if I cud, but I can’t, for law is law, and there ye have it; and though we are King, yet even we haven’t any power over the law. Fiat justitia, ruat coelum.  I’ve got no more conthrol over the law than over the weather.  But we’ve got somethin’, an’ that is a heart that milts at the soight av beauty in disthress.”

“Oh, sire,” said Mrs. Russell, “spare him!”

“His Majesty” took her hand, pressed it, and held it in his.

“Dearest cousin,” said he, “ye ax impossibilities.  Law is an’ must be shuprame.  Even now the coort is deciding.  But in any evint, even the worst, ye have a frind in us ­constant, tinder, an’ thrue; in any evint, no matther what, moind ye, I won’t forgit.  Niver, niver!  I’ll be thrue to me word.  Permit us to laymint that we had not met ye befoor the late ­that is, befoor John Russell obtained this hand.  Nay, dhrop not that beaucheous head, fair one.  Let the r’y’l eye gaze on those charrums.  Our r’y’l joy is to bask an’ sun ourselves in the light av loveliness an’ beauty.”

The strain in which “His Majesty” spoke was certainly high-flown and perhaps extravagant, yet his intention was to express tenderness and sympathy, and to Mrs. Russell it seemed like a declaration made to her, and expressive of much more.  She felt shocked, it is true, at the word “late” applied to her unfortunate husband by “His Majesty,” yet the words which followed were not without a certain consolation.

“Oh, that it were possible,” continued “His Majesty,” “for some of us in this room to be more to one another!  Oh, that some one here would allow us to hope!  Let her think av all that we could do for her.  She should be the sharer av our heart an’ throne.  Her lovely brow should be graced by the crown av Spain an’ the Injies.  She should be surrounded by the homage av the chivalry av Spain.  She should fill the most dazzlin’ position in all the worruld.  She should be the cynosure av r’y’l majistic beauty.  She should have wealth, an’ honors, an’ titles, an’ dignities, an’ jools, an’ gims, all powered pell-mell into her lap; an’ all the power, glory, moight, majisty, an’ dominion av the impayrial Spanish monarchy should be widin the grasp av her little hand.  What say ye, me fair one?”

All this florid harangue was uttered for the benefit of Katie, and, as he spoke, “His Majesty” kept his eyes fixed on her, hoping that she would respond by some glance or sign.  Yet all the time that he was speaking he was unfortunately holding the hand of Mrs. Russell, who very naturally took all this proposal to herself.  “His Majesty’s” language had already seemed to convey the information that her husband had passed away from earth, and was now the “late” John Russell; and much as she might mourn over the fate of one so dear, still it could not be but that the devotion of one like “His Majesty” should touch her sensitive heart.  So when these last words came, and brought what seemed to her like a direct appeal, she was deeply moved.

“What say ye, me fair one?” repeated “His Majesty” with greater earnestness, trying to catch Katie’s eye.

Mrs. Russell’s eyes were modestly bent downward on the floor.  She clung to the royal hand.

“Oh, sire!” she murmured.  “Oh, Your Royal Majesty!  I am thine ­yours forever ­I cannot refuse!”

And flinging her arms about him, her head sank upon his shoulder.