"You did forget me, Simon. But I must spare you, for you will have heard that same charge of fickleness from Mistress Quinton, and it is hard to hear it from two at once. But who shall play my part?" "Indeed I can think of none equal to it." "The King shall play it!" she cried with a triumphant laugh, and stood opposite to me, the embodiment of merry triumph. "Do you catch the plot of my piece, Simon?" "I am very dull," I confessed. "It's your condition, not your nature, Simon," Nell was so good as to say. "A man in love is always dull, save to one woman, and she's stark-mad. Come, can you feign an inclination for me, or have you forgot the trick?" At the moment she spoke the handle of the door turned. Again it turned and was rattled. "I locked it," whispered Nell, her eyes full of mischief. Again, and most impatiently, the handle was twisted to and fro. "Pat, pat, how pat he comes!" she whispered. A last loud rattle followed, then a voice cried in anger, "Open it, I bid you open it." "God help us!" I exclaimed in sad perplexity. "It's the King?" "Yes, it's the King, and, Simon, the piece begins. Look as terrified as you can. It's the King." "Open, I say, open!" cried the King, with a thundering knock. I understood now that he had been in the other room, and that she had left his society to come to me; but I understood only dimly why she had locked the door, and why she now was so slow in opening it. Yet I set my wits to work, and for further aid watched her closely. She was worth the watching. Without aid of paints or powders, of scene or theatre, she transformed her air, her manner, ay, her face also. Alarm and terror showed in her eyes as she stole in fearful fashion across the room, unlocked the door, and drew it open, herself standing by it, stiff and rigid, in what seemed shame or consternation. The agitation she feigned found some reality in me. I was not ready for the thing, although I had been warned by the voice outside. When the King stood in the doorway, I wished myself a thousand miles away. The King was silent for several moments; he seemed to me to repress a passion which, let loose, might hurry him to violence. When he spoke, he was smiling ironically, and his voice was calm. "How comes this gentleman here?" he asked. The terror that Nell had so artfully assumed she appeared now, with equal art, to defy or conquer. She answered him with angry composure. "Why shouldn't Mr. Dale be here, Sir?" she asked. "Am I to see no friends? Am I to live all alone?" "Mr Dale is no friend of mine----" "Sir----" I began, but his raised hand stayed me. "And you have no need of friends when I am here." "Your Majesty," said she, "came to say farewell; Mr Dale was but half an hour too soon."