Queen of the Netherlands had arrived.
There could be no question of performing introductions at such a moment. As the ushers came in, the crowd parted, till an avenue was formed; their Majesties were announced; every lady sank in a deep curtsy; and in walked King William, a stout gentleman, with his stout Queen beside him, and behind him his two sons.
Majesty was in an affable mood, smiling broadly, ready to have any number of presentations made, and to be extremely gracious to everyone; but the Princes attracted more attention. The younger, Frederick, was a fine young man, with not inconsiderable pretensions to good looks. He bore himself stiffly, and favoured his acquaintances with an inclination of the head, accompanied by a small, regal smile.
His brother, the Prince of Orange, though arrayed in all the magnificence of a general's dress uniform, was a much less impressive figure. He was very thin and held himself badly, and his good-humoured countenance bore a slight resemblance to that of a startled faun. His smile, however, was disarming, and a marked tendency to wink at cronies whom he observed in the crowd could not but endear him to his more unceremonious friends. When he caught sight of Colonel Audley, an expression of delight leapt to his rather prominent eyes, and he waved to him; and when the Duke of Wellington, having bowed punctiliously over the King's hand, turned to pay his respects to him, he frustrated any attempt at formality by starting forward, and taking the Duke's hand with all the reverence of a junior officer honoured by a great man.
"I hope I see your Royal Highness in good health?" said the Duke.
"I am so glad to see you, sir," stammered his Royal Highness. "I would have reported at your house this morning, but I did not know - I was at Braine-le-Comte - you must forgive me!"
The Duke's face relaxed. "I shall be happy to see your Highness tomorrow, if that should be convenient to you."
"Yes, of course, sir!" his Highness assured him.
Majesty, listening indulgently to this interchange, intervened to draw the Duke's attention to his younger son. The Prince of Orange seized the opportunity to efface himself, and would have slipped away in search of more congenial companionship had not the signal for the dancing to begin been given at that moment. He was obliged to lead the opening quadrille with the Duchesse de Beaufort, and to dance a couple of waltzes with Madame d'Ursel and Madame d'Assche. After that, he considered his duty conscientiously performed, and disappeared from the ballroom into one of the ajoining rooms where refreshment and kindred spirits were to be found.
He entered between looped curtains to find a small and convivial party assembled there. Lord March, a fresh-faced young man with grave eyes and a quick smile, was leaning on a chair back, adjuring Colonel Audley, seated on the edge of the table, and Colonel Freemantle, lounging against the wall, to make a clean breast of their doings in Vienna. The fourth member of group was Sir Alexander Gordon, a young man with a winning personality, who was engaged in filling his glass from a decanter.
"Charles!" cried the Prince, coming forward in his impetuous style. "My dear fellow, how are you?"
Colonel Audley stood up. "Sir!" he said.
The Prince wrung his hand. "Now, don't, I beg you! I am so pleased you are here! Do not let us have any ceremony! This is like Spain: we need only Canning, and Fitzroy to walk in asking, 'Where's Slender Billy?' and we are again the old family."
"That's all very well, but you've become a great man since I saw you last," objected Colonel Audley. "I think - yes, I think a Royal Tiger."
A general laugh greeted this old Headquarters' joke. The Prince said: "You can't call me a Tiger: I am not a visitor to the camp! But have you seen the real Tigers? Mon Dieu, do you remember we called the Duc d'Angouleme a Royal Tiger? But, my dear Charles - my dear Fremantle - the Duc de Berri! No, really, you would
There could be no question of performing introductions at such a moment. As the ushers came in, the crowd parted, till an avenue was formed; their Majesties were announced; every lady sank in a deep curtsy; and in walked King William, a stout gentleman, with his stout Queen beside him, and behind him his two sons.
Majesty was in an affable mood, smiling broadly, ready to have any number of presentations made, and to be extremely gracious to everyone; but the Princes attracted more attention. The younger, Frederick, was a fine young man, with not inconsiderable pretensions to good looks. He bore himself stiffly, and favoured his acquaintances with an inclination of the head, accompanied by a small, regal smile.
His brother, the Prince of Orange, though arrayed in all the magnificence of a general's dress uniform, was a much less impressive figure. He was very thin and held himself badly, and his good-humoured countenance bore a slight resemblance to that of a startled faun. His smile, however, was disarming, and a marked tendency to wink at cronies whom he observed in the crowd could not but endear him to his more unceremonious friends. When he caught sight of Colonel Audley, an expression of delight leapt to his rather prominent eyes, and he waved to him; and when the Duke of Wellington, having bowed punctiliously over the King's hand, turned to pay his respects to him, he frustrated any attempt at formality by starting forward, and taking the Duke's hand with all the reverence of a junior officer honoured by a great man.
"I hope I see your Royal Highness in good health?" said the Duke.
"I am so glad to see you, sir," stammered his Royal Highness. "I would have reported at your house this morning, but I did not know - I was at Braine-le-Comte - you must forgive me!"
The Duke's face relaxed. "I shall be happy to see your Highness tomorrow, if that should be convenient to you."
"Yes, of course, sir!" his Highness assured him.
Majesty, listening indulgently to this interchange, intervened to draw the Duke's attention to his younger son. The Prince of Orange seized the opportunity to efface himself, and would have slipped away in search of more congenial companionship had not the signal for the dancing to begin been given at that moment. He was obliged to lead the opening quadrille with the Duchesse de Beaufort, and to dance a couple of waltzes with Madame d'Ursel and Madame d'Assche. After that, he considered his duty conscientiously performed, and disappeared from the ballroom into one of the ajoining rooms where refreshment and kindred spirits were to be found.
He entered between looped curtains to find a small and convivial party assembled there. Lord March, a fresh-faced young man with grave eyes and a quick smile, was leaning on a chair back, adjuring Colonel Audley, seated on the edge of the table, and Colonel Freemantle, lounging against the wall, to make a clean breast of their doings in Vienna. The fourth member of group was Sir Alexander Gordon, a young man with a winning personality, who was engaged in filling his glass from a decanter.
"Charles!" cried the Prince, coming forward in his impetuous style. "My dear fellow, how are you?"
Colonel Audley stood up. "Sir!" he said.
The Prince wrung his hand. "Now, don't, I beg you! I am so pleased you are here! Do not let us have any ceremony! This is like Spain: we need only Canning, and Fitzroy to walk in asking, 'Where's Slender Billy?' and we are again the old family."
"That's all very well, but you've become a great man since I saw you last," objected Colonel Audley. "I think - yes, I think a Royal Tiger."
A general laugh greeted this old Headquarters' joke. The Prince said: "You can't call me a Tiger: I am not a visitor to the camp! But have you seen the real Tigers? Mon Dieu, do you remember we called the Duc d'Angouleme a Royal Tiger? But, my dear Charles - my dear Fremantle - the Duc de Berri! No, really, you would
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