“Ah, people say that? And what reason have they for saying it, I wonder?” remarked Sir Godfrey. “The best of reasons, my good friend. They say that their Graces have lost nothing by standing by the Queen, because if they ran a chance of losing anything they would quickly stand by the King--His Majesty over the water.” Sir Godfrey laughed. “I vow, Mistress Barry, that your gossips have failed to interpret as I would the expression upon the face of Her Grace of Marlborough,” said he. “Great heaven, madam, cannot one perceive a pensiveness upon that face of hers?--nay, prithee, do not turn your head to look for the expression. I want not to lose your expression while you are endeavoring to catch that of Her Grace.” “The Sad Sarah! And you mean to reproduce the sadness, Sir Godfrey?” “Not sadness--only pensiveness.” “The one is the same as t' other. Then you will cause posterity to affirm that Sarah was sad to find that she had not become so rich in adhering to the Queen as she might have if she had sent her pensive glances across to France?” “Then posterity will do her wrong. Her Grace is truly attached to the Queen--so truly attached that she becomes melancholic at the thought of not being completely trusted by Her Majesty.” Sir Godfrey's voice had sunk to a whisper as he made this revelation; and when he had spoken he glanced once more round the room as if to assure himself that he had no listeners beside Mrs. Barry. “And the Queen does not trust her?” cried the actress. “Ah, well, I suppose 't is impossible even for a Queen to be for so many years in her company without understanding her. Ah, the poor Duke! Prithee continue your story, Sir Godfrey. I perceive that you would fain lead one up to the scandalous part.” “Scandalous part, madam? Nay, if you discern not a deep pathos in the sad look of Her Grace, the Duchess, after the key which I have given you to her expression, no rehearsal of scandal would awake your interest in the subject of yonder portrait.” “Nay, sir, if you refuse to tell me further, you will have to bear with the mockery of posterity for depicting me with a melancholic visage, as well as your Duchess. Pray tell me the scandal, or I vow I shall have a fit of the vapours all the time you are painting my portrait.” “My dear lady, there is no scandal to rehearse, I pledge you my word,” said the painter. “'T is only said that Her Majesty--” “Is blest by heaven with excellent eyesight? Well, yes; I dare swear that your Duchess is strongly of that opinion--that is what adds to her melancholy. But I vow 't is most scandalous that there's no scandal. We must try and repair this, you and I, Sir Godfrey.” “What, does the woman fancy that all lives should be regulated on the lines set down by the poets who write for your playhouses?” “And why not? If our poets will not be true to nature, is it not our duty to try to make nature true to the poets?”