After a few minutes, during which I waited very uneasily, my lord turned and signed to me to approach. I obeyed, hat in hand, and in a condition of great apprehension. To be presented to the King was an honour disquieting enough; what if my lord had told His Majesty that I declined to bear his commission through a disapproval of his reasons for granting me the favour? But when I came near I fell into the liveliest fear that my lord had done this very thing; for the King was smiling contemptuously, Buckingham laughing openly, and the gentleman with the plaster regarding me with a great and very apparent curiosity. My lord, meanwhile, wore a propitiatory but doubtful air, as though he prayed but hardly hoped a gracious reception for me. Thus we all stood a moment in complete silence, I invoking an earthquake or any convulsion of nature that should rescue me from my embarrassment. Certainly the King did not hasten to do me this kindly service. He grew grave and seemed displeased, nay, he frowned most distinctly, but then he smiled, yet more as though he must than because he would. I do not know how the thing would have ended if the Duke of Buckingham had not burst out laughing again, at which the King could not restrain himself, but began to laugh also, although still not as though he found the jest altogether to his liking. "So, sir," said the King, composing his features as he addressed me, "you are not desirous of bearing my commission and fighting my enemies for me?" "I would fight for your Majesty to the death," said I timidly, but with fervour. "Yet you are on the way to ask leave to resign your commission. Why, sir?" I could not answer; it was impossible to state my reason to him. "The utility of a woman's help," observed the King, "was apparent very early in the world's history. Even Adam was glad of it." "She was his wife, Sir," interposed the Duke. "I have never read of the ceremony," said the King. "But if she were, what difference?" "Why, it makes a great deal of difference in many ways, Sir," laughed Buckingham, and he glanced with a significance which I did not understand at the boy who was waiting near with a weary look on his pretty face. The King laughed carelessly and called, "Charles, come hither." Then I knew that the boy must be the King's son, afterwards known as Earl of Plymouth, and found the meaning of the Duke's glance. "Charles, what think you of women?" the King asked. The pretty child thought for a moment, then answered, looking up, "They are very tiresome creatures, Sir." "Why, so they are, Charles," said the King gravely. "They will never let a thing alone, Sir." "No, they won't, Charles, nor a man either." "It's first this, Sir, then that--a string, or a garter, or a bow." "Yes, Charles; or a title, or a purse, or a commission," said the King. "Shall we have no more to do with them?" "I would desire no more at all, Sir," cried the boy.