Master Neville dwelt once more at the court, with Dame Hynd reinstated as his housekeeper; but it could not be said of him, as it was recorded of the royal Stewarts and Bourbons, that in their absence from their kingdoms they had learned nothing and forgotten nothing. He was a more sober-minded and gentler-hearted man for his troubles. One incident which he never forgot was that half-hour in the wood when the ferns were getting sere, and the leaves growing red and yellow—when Reine danced and Roy died, and their master sat and looked on, a broken-down, forlorn man. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VI. “DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE.” ONE of the most successful and popular of Sir Edward Landseer’s delineations is the picture, “Dignity and Impudence.” It is even better known and more widely prized than his exquisitely comical sick dog, that is so sorry for itself, while the keeper is examining its paw; and his deeply pathetic “Last Mourner,” in which the shepherd’s dog keeps solitary watch by its master’s coffin. The noble mastiff lies stately and serene, his vast bulk tempered by his perfect proportions, and by a gait worthy of the king of dogs. His well-opened hazel eyes look with honest straightforwardness full in your face. His huge ears hang down quietly. His jaws are closed and overlapped by his deep jowl. He is the _beau-ideal_ of strength in restraint and repose, as he lies there with one paw, like that of a lion’s cub, hanging idly over the framework of his couch, and the other half-turned inwards, as if he were about to put it on his heart, in token of the true gentleman he is. From within the same pent-house, where he is freely tolerated as a lively child companion, protrudes the small confident head—bristling with hair, the knowing little ears erect, the tongue half-thrust out at one side, equivalent to being stuck in the cheek—of the briskest, most undaunted of terriers. I suppose it is because we all know many versions—both human and canine—of this pair of friends, that we are so fond of looking at them and admiring their union in diversity. I can never see “Dignity and Impudence” without thinking of a couple of dogs belonging to friends of mine, and that were said to bear a striking and exact resemblance to the dogs in the picture. I had not the good fortune to know this living “Dignity and Impudence,” though I long looked forward to the pleasure; but I happened to hear a great deal of them, and registered their traits with interest.