That evening he went to seek Buckingham at the Royal Palace.  He had no austere regard for the pomp and splendour of the Court at best, and now he was almost unconscious of his surroundings.  His azure-hued costume was magnificent in its profusion of embroidery and precious stones.  There were none more handsome of face or figure.  Courtiers and wits abounded, but none more courtly or witty than he, when he was moved.  None bowed before his Majesty’s dais with more grace, appearing more a king than he who filled the Royal chair.  He erred not in the most minute detail of demeanour.  There was no one in the realm that held more of his Majesty’s regard.

After being detained some moments at the Royal chair, he went to seek Buckingham, whose first words smote him foolishly.

“It is said, my lord, that Love hath Cupid’s wings, and I verily believe William was right, or else how couldst thou have fluttered from a couch of painful wounds to London either by chaise or a horse?  Ah!—­Love is nascent; after cycles of time it may become mature enough to be introduced into Court—­eh!—­my lord?”

“Contemporary chronicles relate that the mind is capable of greater suffering than the body, and when both are affected, if we give precedence to the employment of the mind, the body is at once cured; hence my sound chest.  Hast thou seen Sir Julian?”

“He is with Monmouth in his chamber.  They have been drinking deep, or at least the Duke, who is pouring out in Pomphrey’s ear confidences almost too maudlin to be understood;” and there was a covert sneer on the haughty lips of his Grace.  At the name of Monmouth and the knowledge that he was not with Katherine, Cedric’s great tension appeared to snap asunder.  For a moment Buckingham gazed at his companion as if in him there were undiscovered mines.  Then suddenly his mind and eye returned to the tangible, and he run his arm through that of Cedric’s and drew him away.  When they were quite alone, the Duke, without the shadow of compunction, said,—­

“You, my lord, are ambitious of nothing but domesticity.  Is it not so?” His Lordship looked up with a start.  If there was one thing he hated more than another, it was intrigue.  And though he was ever environed by it, yet ’twas not his business now.  He had come seeking Buckingham for the purpose of asking his assistance with the Duke of Monmouth, and at these words, so foreign from his interests, he frowned slightly and answered,—­

“’Twould be difficult to say at what I aspire, seeing the thing I coveted most is taken from me.  If that were mine, it might open up a vista of aspirations I had ne’er thought on heretofore I see only one thing at the present worth possessing.”

“And to possess that—­thou art one of the richest nobles in the realm—­eh!  Cedric?” His Lordship thought he saw the trend of his Grace’s mind, and felt better.

“I’m rich to be sure, egad!  What’s the game, faro, loo, crib, langquement or quinze?” and he tapped his pouncet-box nervously.