"No, no, no!" cried the duchess. "That would be your ruin! A dog licks
the hand that smites it. We're all dogs. Every failure I have known at
court has come from too great a desire to please."

Frances laughed uneasily, for she knew she was hearing the truth,
disguised as a jest. After a moment's silence, she asked:--

"May I not at least try to please your Grace? And may I not seek your
advice and thank you now and then for a reprimand?"

"Yours is the first request of the sort I have ever heard from a maid of
honor, and I shall take you at your word," said the duchess. "I'm not
posing as the head of a morality school, but if I may, I shall try to be
your guide."

Lady Wentworth was almost comatose with pride--"pride on the brain"
Frances afterwards called it.

Presently her Grace continued seriously. "The king will make love to you
on sight. If he fails in obtaining a satisfactory response, he may affect
to be offended for a few days, during which time my husband may try his
hand. Failing, he will smile and will withdraw to make room for Rowley's
return attack. Rowley's return will be in earnest, and then will come
your trial, for the whole court will fawn upon you, will lie about you,
and beg your favor for them with the king."

"Surely it is a delightful prospect," returned my cousin, smiling.

"Oh, delightful, delightful!" ejaculated Lady Wentworth in a semilucid