"Ah, but if we choose to offer her a more honourable one! Indeed the
knave of a Russian, who lies without, has but just put the matter in
our hands. He was to escort her, but at sight of blood he faints and
begs us take forthwith his promised wife to Whitehall." One could not
mistake the courtly grace and fine figure of his Grace of Buckingham.
Behind him was a form equally imposing, and the handsome mouth and
chin of the Duke of Monmouth could be seen as he tilted his masque for
a better view of the maid, whom he supposed was the same he had met in
the evening. But with half an eye he saw his mistake. Never was he so
moved at first sight of a face before. He drank in her loveliness in
rapturous drafts, and swayed from side to side examining with critical
eye the outline of her fair mould. She had thrown her cloak from her
and stood slightly in front of Constantine, as he, holding a candle
at her elbow, leant close to her ear, whispering and holding a small
paper for her to read. As she read, her eyes flashed, her bosom rose
and fell neath the covering of her short, full waist; and Monmouth's
eyes seemed ravished by it.
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