no guards at all.  The King walked much more slowly that day than was his wont—­I suppose because of the sore on his heel.  But I did not go near enough for him to see me; for I would trouble him now no further than I need.  All this time—­or at least now and again—­I wondered a little as to whether I was right to go.  I will not deny that the prospect of remaining had a little allurement in it; but it was truly not more than a little; and as evening fell and my heart went inwards again, as hearts do when the curtains are drawn, I wondered that it had been any allurement at all:  for my life lay buried in the churchyard of Hormead Parva, and I had best bury the rest of me in the place where at least I had a few friends left.  After supper, about ten o’clock, I put on my cloak and went across to the Duchess of Portsmouth’s lodgings, where the levee was held usually on such evenings.  My man James went with me to light me there.

I do not think I have seen a more splendid sight, very often, than that great gallery, when I came into it that night, passing on my way through the closet where I had once talked with Her Grace.  It was all alight from end to end with candles in cressets, and on the great round table at the further end where the company was playing basset, stood tall candlesticks amidst all the gold.  I had not seen this great gallery before; and it was beyond everything, and far beyond Her Majesty’s own great chamber.  If I had thought the closet fine, this was a thousand times more.  There were great French tapestries on the walls, and between them paintings that had been once Her Majesty’s, and those not the worst of them.  The quantity of silver in the room astonished me:  there were whole tables of it, and braziers and sconces and cressets beyond reckoning; and there were at least five or six chiming clocks that the King had given to Her Grace; and tall Japanese presses and cabinets of lacquer which she loved especially.

There was a fire of Scotch coal burning on the hearth, as in His Majesty’s own bedchamber; and on a great silver couch, beside this, covered with silk tapestry, sat the King, smiling to himself, with two or three dogs beside him, and Her Grace of Portsmouth on the same couch.  The Duchesses of Cleveland and Mazarin were on chairs very near the couch.

There was a great clamour of voices from the basset-table as I came in and the King looked up; and, as I went across to pay my respects to His Majesty, he said something to the Duchess, very merrily.  She too glanced up at me; and indeed she was a splendid sight in her silks and in the jewels she had had from him.

“Why; here is my friend!” said the King, as he put out his hand to me; and once more the dogs yapped at me from his side.  He put his left hand out over their heads and pressed them down.

“You must not bark at my friend Mr. Mallock,” he said.  “He is off to be a holy monk.”

For a moment I thought the King was making a mock of me; but it was not so.  He was smiling at me very friendly.