“I am very sorry; my business is imperative—­”

“Imperative!—­imperative! that such words should fall from cherry lips that will become irresistible should they turn to pouting;—­so take heed and tempt me not.”  He had already swallowed several glasses of wine and was fast becoming audacious.

Janet stood behind Mistress Penwick’s chair; her face appearing immutable.  The Duke bade the maid drink her wine.  She touched her lips to the glass and set down the cup.  He swept it passionately to his own.  Katherine’s boldness was fast declining.  She began to wish that something would happen to take the Duke’s attention from her.  Even Constance’ presence would be a relief.  If she were only in the garden again—­free—­she would fly to some place of safety.

He lowered his voice into a passionate whisper and leant over, catching her hand as she would withdraw it.  He began to draw her toward him.  Her fear was evident, for Monmouth, drunk as he was, saw it, and fell to coaxing.  His voice, not yet maudlin, was sweet and impassioned.

“Thou were not afraid when that Russian knave claimed thee and was about to carry thee off, and now thou hast the King’s son to guard and love thee—­love—­dost hear it, my Precious?  And I came to claim thee this night, to tell thee all I know, to make the little Convent Maid wise.”  He threw his arm about her, almost drawing her from the chair.  Katherine was white and trembling, knowing not which way to turn.

“Indeed, sir, I know not thy meaning.”

“My meaning?  Dost not thou know what love is?  Of course thou dost not—­if thou didst, it might be I should not care to be thy tutor.  Come, I will teach thee this night—­now, my Pretty,—­now.  Come, come with me.”  He arose and essayed to draw her toward the door that led to an inner chamber.  Katherine was well nigh to swooning, and perhaps would have, had not there fell upon her ear the sound of some one entering the house.  “Ah, heaven!” she thought, “if it were only Father La Fosse or Sir Julian or even—­ah!” She did hear Constance’ voice.  “Aye, even Constance could think of some way for her to escape.”  She knew Janet was behind her chair, but she might have lost her usual wit and have become incapable of helping at the very moment she was most needed.  Monmouth drank another glass of wine, then withdrew from his chair and leant over that of the maid, drawing her close in his embrace.  He was now so drunk he did not hear the door creak as Janet and Katherine did; the former, seeing the pale, triumphant face of Constance reflected in a mirror, as she stood half-way inside the door.  Katherine tried to disengage herself by reaching for another glass of wine.  The Duke reached it for her and would hold it to her lips; but she, looking up at him with a feint of a smile, said in coaxing tones,—­

“I was getting it for thee; your Highness will drink it?”

“Could I refuse—­there!—­there!  Come!—­” He put his arms about her and was carrying her forth, when Janet plucked him by the sleeve and whispered something in his ear.  He loosed for a moment her trembling form and she began to weep.  These tears made him forget Janet’s words, and he turned again to Katherine.