“Pardon me, sir,” said Julian, “she is a dependant of the Countess of Derby.” “True, true,” answered Charles; “it is indeed of Lady Derby, who hath also her own distresses in these times. Do you know who taught the young person to dance? Some of her steps mightily resemble Le Jeune’s of Paris.” “I presume she was taught abroad, sir,” said Julian; “for myself, I am charged with some weighty business by the Countess, which I would willingly communicate to your Majesty.” “We will send you to our Secretary of State,” said the King. “But this dancing envoy will oblige us once more, will she not?--Empson, now that I remember, it was to your pipe that she danced--Strike up, man, and put mettle into her feet.” Empson began to play a well-known measure; and, as he had threatened, made more than one false note, until the King, whose ear was very accurate, rebuked him with, “Sirrah, art thou drunk at this early hour, or must thou too be playing thy slippery tricks with me? Thou thinkest thou art born to beat time, but I will have time beat into thee.” The hint was sufficient, and Empson took good care so to perform his air as to merit his high and deserved reputation. But on Fenella it made not the slightest impression. She rather leant than stood against the wall of the apartment; her countenance as pale as death, her arms and hands hanging down as if stiffened, and her existence only testified by the sobs which agitated her bosom, and the tears which flowed from her half-closed eyes. “A plague on it,” said the King, “some evil spirit is abroad this morning; and the wenches are all bewitched, I think. Cheer up, my girl. What, in the devil’s name, has changed thee at once from a Nymph to a Niobe? If thou standest there longer thou wilt grow to the very marble wall--Or--oddsfish, George, have you been bird-bolting in this quarter also?” Ere Buckingham could answer to this charge, Julian again kneeled down to the King, and prayed to be heard, were it only for five minutes. “The young woman,” he said, “had been long in attendance of the Countess of Derby. She was bereaved of the faculties of speech and hearing.” “Oddsfish, man, and dances so well?” said the King. “Nay, all Gresham College shall never make me believe that.” “I would have thought it equally impossible, but for what I to-day witnessed,” said Julian; “but only permit me, sir, to deliver the petition of my lady the Countess.” “And who art thou thyself, man?” said the Sovereign; “for though everything which wears bodice and breast-knot has a right to speak to a King, and be answered, I know not that they have a title to audience through an envoy extraordinary.” “I am Julian Peveril of Derbyshire,” answered the supplicant, “the son of Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale Castle, who----” “Body of me--the old Worcester man?” said the King. “Oddsfish, I remember him well--some harm has happened to him, I think--Is he not dead, or very sick at least?”