A little later the marquis entered, walking slowly, leaning on the arm of lord Charles, but carrying in his own hands a present of apricots from his brother to the king.

Meantime Dorothy’s love had begun to rise again from beneath her awe; but when the marquis came in, old and stately, reverend and slow, with a silver dish in each hand and a basket on his arm, and she saw him bow three times ere he presented his offering, himself serving whom all served, himself humble whom all revered, then again did awe nearly overcome her.  When the king, however, having graciously received the present, chose for each of the ladies one of the apricots, and coming to Dorothy last, picked out and offered the one he said was likest the bloom of her own fair cheek, gratitude again restored the sway of love, and in the greatness of the honour she almost let slip the compliment.  She could not reply, but she looked her thanks, and the king doubtless missed nothing.

The next day his majesty rested, but on following days rode to Monmouth, Chepstow, Usk, and other towns in the neighbourhood, whose loyalty, thanks to the marquis, had as yet stood out.  After dinner he generally paid the marquis a visit in the oak parlour, then perhaps had a walk in the grounds, or a game on the bowling-green.

But although the marquis was devoted to the king’s cause, he was not therefore either blinded or indifferent to the king’s faults, and as an old man who had long been trying to grow better, he made up his mind to risk a respectful word in the matter of kingly obligation.

One day, therefore, when his majesty entered the oak parlour, he found his host sitting by the table with his Gower lying open before him, as if he had been reading, which doubtless was the case.

‘What book have you there, my lord?’ asked the king—­while some of his courtiers stood near the door, and others gazed from the window on the moat and the swelling, towering mass of the keep.  ’I like to know what books my friends read.’

’Sir, it is old master John Gower’s book of verses, entitled Confessio Amantis,’ answered his lordship.

‘It is a book I have never seen before,’ said the king, glancing at its pages.

‘Oh!’ returned the marquis, ’it is a book of books, which if your majesty had been well versed in, it would have made you a king of kings.’

‘Why so, my lord?’ asked the king.

‘Why,’ said the marquis, ’here is set down how Aristotle brought up and instructed Alexander the Great in all his rudiments, and the principles belonging to a prince.  Allow me, sir, to read you such a passage as will show your majesty the truth of what I say.’

He opened the book and read: 

   ’Among the vertues one is chefe,
    And that is trouthe, which is lefe (dear)
    To God and eke to man also. 
    And for it hath ben ever so,
    Taught Aristotle, as he well couth, (knew)