The Masqueraders quotes

It had begun to rain an hour ago, a fine driving mist with the sky grey above. The gentleman riding beside the chaise surveyed the clouds placidly.

“Faith, it’s a wonderful climate,”

he remarked of no one in particular.

But now it’s over, and the Butcher’s made a shambles of the North, and there are those who have died on Tower Hill, while we—we try our fortunes, and the old gentleman weaves us a fresh net. I believe I’ll turn respectable.”

“Alack, we were made for sobriety!” said Mr. Merriot.

Came the landlord, and a serving maid with dinner. Covers were laid, and a cork drawn. Miss Merriot and her brother sat down to fat capons and a generous pasty. They were left presently toying with sweetmeats and their wine.

“The poor gentleman!” said Miss Merriot, holding a wet napkin to Mr. Markham’s brow. “ ’Twas the drink turned the head on his shoulders, I dare swear. An accident, host. I believe he won’t die of it.”

“A warning to all abductors,” said Mr. Merriot piously.

A gleam of understanding shot into the landlord’s eyes. “Sir, he’ll be raving mad when he comes to.”

“Pray, sir, be seated. You will be ravenous.”

“I confess I hate to miss my dinner,” said Sir Anthony, and began to carve the chicken.

“There is something of me to maintain, you see,” he added, with a twinkle, and a glance cast down his noble bulk.

“You don’t want that?” Robin looked sideways.

“I’m in love with respectability,” said Prudence lightly.

There was a teasing word ready, but Robin forbore to utter it. This change in his sister promised to complicate things still further. Not a doubt of it, the mountain had caught her fancy, but there could be little hope of a happy ending.

No, she was not offended. Only—only it was so very strange not to know who he was.

“My name you would not know if I told it,” he said. “Why spoil a perfect hour?”

Her lips were a little parted. “A perfect hour!” she echoed. “Is it perfect, sir?”

He smiled, and shook his head.

“To unmask would be to kill Romance, Letitia.”

She was doubtful. “Would it? But how shall I know you again if I do not see your face tonight?”

“You do not appreciate me,” said my lord sadly, and sat him down by the table.

“You lack soul, my children. Yes, you lack soul.”

“I concede you all my admiration, sir,” said Prudence.

Prudence shook her head.

“Ah, sir, you should have been put at the head of it,” she mourned. “The Prince would be at St. James’s today then.”

My lord was forcibly struck by this view of the case. “My child, you have intuition,” he said seriously. “You are right. Yes, beyond all doubt you are right.” He sat lost in meditation, planning, they knew, great deeds that might have been.

“Paper? You’ve set your name to something? Where is it?” demanded Robin.

“If I knew, should I fear it?” my lord pointed out.

“It seems to me, sir,” said Prudence slowly, “that there is a Sword of Damocles poised above your head as well.”

My lord’s hand was raised. “No!” he said emphatically, and a sigh went round the room. His next words dispelled relief.

“Never in all my life have I kept anything that was common! You insult me by the suggestion.”

There was a low ripple of laughter. People were gathering about that corner of the room, eager to hear what might be the issue.

The old gentleman took snuff.

“I have kept at least a dozen, my dear Rensley,” he said, with perfect composure.

He looked again towards Mr. Markham. “I am not entirely satisfied,” he mused. “Are you sure you never had lessons in fencing from me, sir?”

The old gentleman shut his gold snuffbox with a snap.

“My dear March,” he said haughtily, “there is nothing I have not been!”

He looked again at Mr. Markham. “Are you quite sure I did not give you lessons in fencing? Let me think a moment! Yes, I had an establishment in Rome once, and—yes, yes, another in Turin!”

“Only once,” said my lord. He dwelt lovingly on a pleasant memory.

“How hard I punched your nose then,” he said dreamily.

There was a roar of laughter, hastily suppressed. Mr. Rensley strode to the door. “Don’t think I’ve done with you, my fine gentleman!” he said savagely, and slammed out of the room.

The large gentleman’s voice broke in on her reflections.

“There is no Borgia blood in my veins, Peter Merriot.”

There was some sternness in the tone. Her left hand came mechanically to cover the maltreated wrist; the marks of the gentleman’s fingers still lingered. “I did not suppose it, sir.”

There fell a silence. “Prudence …” Sir Anthony repeated and smiled.

“I don’t think you were very well named, child.”

He looked down at her, and there was a light in his eyes she had never seen there before. “Will you marry me?” he said simply.

Her hand lay on the chair-back. He took it in his again, and carried it to his lips.

“You have the truest eyes in the world, Prudence,” he said. “And the very bravest.”

“You don’t know me,” she repeated. “I have led the life of an adventurer; I am an adventurer—a masquerader! I have no knowledge even of my true name. My father—” She paused.

She smiled mistily, and tried to shake her head. He laughed and there was no laziness either in his face or in his voice.

“Better come to me willingly then,” he said, “for, by God, I shall have no mercy!”

I exact such homage on her behalf. She is incomparably lovely. But I—I am different. My children are very well. They have beauty, and wit—a little. But in me there is a subtlety such as you don’t dream of, sir.” He pondered it sadly.

“I have never met the man who had vision large enough to appreciate my genius,” he said simply. “Perhaps it was not to be expected.”

“I shall hope to have my vision enlarged as I become better acquainted with you, sir,” Sir Anthony replied, with admirable gravity.

“I am quite of your opinion,” nodded my lord.

“Burgundy is the very King of Wines, but it was not meant to be taken in the morning.”

He handed his guest a brimming glass, and poured another for himself. “To your very good health, my dear sir!”

“Positively you overwhelm me!” my lord said.

“You oppress me with kindness, sir. And you come, in fact, to set my mind at rest! Believe me all gratitude.”

“I don’t come for that purpose at all,” said Mr. Markham, annoyed. “I come for a purpose, for which you may not be so damned grateful.”

“I don’t come for that purpose at all,” said Mr. Markham, annoyed. “I come for a purpose, for which you may not be so damned grateful.”

“Impossible!” My lord shook his head. “The mere felicity of seeing you here in my rooms must fill me with gratitude.”

Mr. Markham broke in on this without ceremony. “Barham you may be, but there is one thing you have been which is certain!” He paused to let this sink in.

“No, no, it comes quite naturally,” my lord interpolated sweetly.

“I assume nothing; I am a positive child of nature, my dear sir. But you were saying?”

“Ay, it doesn’t interest you at all, does it?” Mr. Markham achieved a sneer.

My lord looked at him, but it is doubtful whether he saw him. His gaze seemed to go beyond.

“I am a great man,” he said. “Oh, but I am a very great man!”

“Yes, my lord,” said Henry.

My lord looked at him seriously.

“I do not know,” he said, with a revealing simplicity. “I have never yet discovered them.”

Came my Lady Lowestoft into the room in a fine bustle. Her sharp eyes darted from one guest to the other. “Tiens! Such a party!” She untied the strings of her mantle, and cast it from her.

John, entering behind my lord, shut the door. “He’s been like this all the way down,” he told Robin. “We’d ha’ been here an hour since, but that he must needs stop to change his clothes,” he added.

“It is not my habit to drive about the country in ball dress,” said my lord crushingly.

It was quite evident that he was very much put out. Lady Lowestoft patted the couch invitingly. “But sit down, my dear Robert!” she coaxed.

There would be no one to tell of this mad flight through the dark hours; no man would have seen them pass, nor any hear the beat of the horses’ hoofs racing by.

Sure, they seemed to be the only people awake in all England.

The failing daylight had gone hours since; there had been a spell of darkness when they rested their horses in a walk along a deserted lane;

“Needs must when the old gentleman drives,” said Prudence, smiling.

“I should like to breed pigs, Sir Anthony, I believe.”

“You shall,” he promised. “I have several pigs down at Wych End.”

Sir Anthony’s head was turned towards her.

“My dear, will you never realize that I adore you?”

She looked down at her bridle hand; she was shaken and blushing like any silly chit, forsooth! “It was not my ambition to make you admire me by telling you those things, sir.”

It was all very mysterious; the gentleman appeared to be omniscient. And what in the world was there to amuse him so? She gave a sigh of content.

“You give me the happy ending I never thought to have,”

she said.

Surprise had held the others spellbound, but Mr. Brent recovered himself. “Mrs. Staines, do you recognise this man?”

“Oh, the legal mind!” murmured my lord.

“Why, of course I do, sir! It’s our John, who went off years ago soon after Master Robert.” She turned again to her brother. “And you’ve been with him all the time! Eh, and we never thought of it!

John looked scornful. “Ay, of course he is,” he answered.

“Is there ever another would have that nose but a Tremaine?”

“You have been with him all these years?”

So my Lady Lowestoft thought, and wondered at it. My lord waved a lofty hand.

“I am Tremaine of Barham,” he said. “A lesser man might have shown meanness.”

“You are superb, Robert,” she told him.