The Merry Monarch's Wife
called and they said I must keep to my bed.
    Several days had passed since my arrival and I had not yet seen the King. He was detained in London on urgent business, I was told. I was a little uneasy that he should be delayed so long. It might seem that he was not very eager to see me. I wondered what the business in London could be which was so urgent. Matters of state, of course.
    It was five days after my arrival in Portsmouth when he came. I was in bed. The fever had subsided but the cold still persisted.
    Donna Maria, now recovered, said: “You must not leave your bed, and one thing is certain, the King must not see you in it.”
    â€œHe will expect to see me when he arrives.”
    â€œIf he is a sensible and right-minded man, he will realize the impropriety of seeing you at such a time.”
    I wondered. I had already noticed that formality was not so rigidly insisted on here as it was in Portugal. It existed, of course, but the English had a habit of discarding certain things if they become inconvenient.
    He arrived. I heard the commotion below. Donna Maria and Donna Elvira were standing at the door like two angels with flaming swords guarding Eden.
    Then I heard a voice—the most musical I had ever heard. It was soft and caressing, though I could not understand the words which were spoken.
    The Earl of Sandwich was there.
    He said in Spanish that the King had arrived and wished to see the Queen.
    Donna Maria replied that the Queen was indisposed.
    â€œThe King will see her,” replied the Earl. “He has traveled from London for this.”
    Donna Maria was about to protest, but with a courtly gesture, the Earl led her to one side. And there was the King.
    I felt myself flushing and trying to shrink below the bedclothes, fearful that, unadorned as I was, he should find me ill-favored.
    He came to the bed. He had taken off his plumed hat and flung it onto a chair. He was smiling and he was all that I had dreamed him to be. One was immediately aware of his height, and his dark face with the heavy-lidded eyes. They sparkled with merriment and friendliness. Yet there was a certain gentleness about him. He was swarthy, yes, that was true enough. He was quite unlike the fair-skinned Englishmen whom I had met so far. In fact, he was different from anyone I had ever seen before. He may not have had perfect features, but he had something far more attractive. It was an excessive and indefinable charm. For so long I had created an image—now here was the embodiment of my ideal.
    He sat on the bed and took my hand. He kissed it, looking up into my face as he did so.
    He spoke in English and then, laughing, slipped into Spanish.
    â€œThe Spaniards have a use then,” he said. “They gave us a language which we both understand. My little wife, how it delights me to see you! But I am sad that you should be indisposed. But you will be well soon. Your doctors have told me that. It is nothing much…just a little inconvenience. That makes me very happy.”
    â€œYou are kind,” I said.
    â€œKind?” He laughed. “And to whom should I be kind if not to my Queen? Life is going to be good. I can see that you and I will be of one mind. We shall be merry together. The sea was not good to you, they tell me. That grieved me much. And now you are here, all shall be well from now on. How I have longed to see you!”
    It did not occur to me until later—such was the magic of his presence—that if he had so longed to see me, he need not have waited five days before doing so. But I was to discover that, while one was with Charles, he beguiled one into believing him. Or perhaps one did so because one wanted to.
    â€œAs soon as you are well, we shall be married,” he said.
    He saw the furrow in my brow and asked me in a tender voice if anything worried me.
    With a certain apprehension, I broached the subject which was uppermost in my mind. Perhaps he was not the one to whom I

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