“’Tis the King sets the pace!” said one, close to the curtain.

“Egad!” said another.  “He not only sets it, but carries it along.  He has fine wenches at his beck and call.”  ’Twas evident ’twas but the beginning of revelry; a sort of bacchanalian prelude to what might come later.  No sooner was this dance finished than another began.  Some lithe creature came forth to dance, in bright scarlet, the passacaglia.  The glasses were refilled and the noise became more boisterous; and the scandal more flagrant.  The candles were set aglow again and tables were brought for those wishing to gamble.  And one richly dressed and full of wine sprung upon a table and held aloft a glass and called forth: 

“Here, here is to his Lordship of Crandlemar and to a long life of free and easy celibacy.”  Now ’twas said Lord Cedric could drink more without becoming undignified than any other man of his company, but it seemed he gave himself to the spirit of the moment and had drunk deep.  When the young blood upon the table offered the toast, Cedric sprung as if shot to the table, where he staggered and would have fallen, had it not been for the youth who bore him up.  Holtcolm, in his drunken anxiety for his neighbour’s steadiness, stood near him and with tender, maudlin solicitude began to flick the grains of bergamot scented snuff from the lace of Lord Cedric’s steenkirk.  At the same time from the glass he held there spilled on his Lordship’s brocaded coat of blue and silver a good half-pint of wine.  Cedric upon being balanced had forgotten what he wanted to say, and turned to his supporter.

“What was it Holt-colm—­I was goin’ to shay?” Neither could remember, so his Lordship continued with what seemed to weigh upon his mind: 

“’Tis thish:  ’tis my deshire thish should be made a memorable—­a night worthy of remembrance.  I’m about to espoushe my fair ward—­and this is positively my lasht appearance en bout—­I know and am fully aware abondance de bien ne nuit until a better comes.  To-night will be my finale de-bauch—­sho; tell the red beauty to come here.”  He sat down upon the table and gazed with heavy, drooping lids upon the dancing girl that came toward him.  “Thou art a saucy baggage; but—­hic—­thou art false of colour and—­hic—­flesh.  Thy lips and cheeks are stained with rouge—­hic—­and thy flesh—­is—­hic—­pushed to prominence by high stays—­by God, it turns my stomach to—­nausea.”  And he turned over and lay flat upon the table.  “Bring on another—­shay—­we must have the moonlight beauty again.”  Katherine was well frightened and made several efforts to persuade her companion to go away.  It was part of Constance’ programme to cause Katherine’s disgust at sight of Cedric’s wantonness.  She felt it had been accomplished, and as there were other matters to be about, she turned with her and together they groped back up the stairs in the darkness, and found Janet feigning sleep in a chair before the