The banquet was over, and Edward, having dismissed his other
attendants, was in his chamber with Lord Hastings, whose office always
admitted him to the wardrobe of the king.

Edward's smile had now left his lip; he paced the room with a hasty
stride, and then suddenly opening the casement, pointed to the
landscape without, which lay calm and suffused in moonlight.

"Hastings," said he, abruptly, "a few hours since and the earth grew
spears! Behold the landscape now!"

"So vanish all the king's enemies!"

"Ay, man, ay,--if at the king's word, or before the king's battle-axe;
but at a subject's command--No, I am not a king while another scatters
armies in my realm at his bare will. 'Fore Heaven, this shall not
last!"

Hastings regarded the countenance of Edward, changed from affable
beauty into terrible fierceness, with reflections suggested by his
profound and mournful wisdom. "How little a man's virtues profit him
in the eyes of men!" thought he. "The subject saves the crown, and
the crown's wearer never pardons the presumption!"

"You do not speak, sir!" exclaimed Edward, irritated and impatient.
"Why gaze you thus on me?"

"Beau sire," returned the favourite, calmly, "I was seeking to
discover if your pride spoke, or your nobler nature."