On reaching the Convocation House, a door was opened, and the procession entered the cloisters; and here Chowles, dragging Judith into the area between him and the beautiful structure they surrounded, began a dance of so extraordinary a character that the whole troop collected round to witness it.  Rochester beat his drum, and the other representatives of mortality who were provided with musical instruments struck up a wild kind of accompaniment, to which Chowles executed the most grotesque flourishes.  So wildly excited did he become, and such extravagances did he commit, that even Judith stared aghast at him, and began to think his wits were fled.  Now he whirled round her—­now sprang high into the air—­now twined his lean arms round her waist—­now peeped over one shoulder, now over the other—­and at last griped her neck so forcibly, that he might perhaps have strangled her, if she had not broken from him, and dealt him a severe blow that brought him senseless to the ground.  On recovering, he found himself in the arched entrance of a large octagonal chamber, lighted at each side by a lofty pointed window filled with stained glass.  Round this chamber ran a wide stone bench, with a richly-carved back of the same material, on which the masquers were seated, and opposite the entrance was a raised seat, ordinarily allotted to the dean, but now occupied by the Earl of Rochester.  A circular oak table stood in the midst of the chamber, covered with magnificent silver dishes, heaped with the choicest viands, which were handed to the guests by the earl’s servants, all of whom represented skeletons, and it had a strange effect, to behold these ghastly objects filling the cups of the revellers, bending obsequiously before some blooming dame, or crowding round their spectral-looking lord.

At first, Chowles was so confused, that he thought he must have awakened in another world, but by degrees he called to mind what had occurred, and ascertained from Judith that he was in the Convocation House.  Getting up, he joined the train of grisly attendants, and acquitted himself so well that the earl engaged him as performer in the masque.  He was furthermore informed that, in all probability, the king himself, with many of his favourite nobles, and the chief court beauties, would be present to witness the spectacle.

The banquet over, word was brought that chairs and coaches were without, and the company departed, leaving behind only a few attendants, who remained to put matters in order.

While they were thus occupied, Judith, who had fixed her greedy eyes upon the plate, observed, in an under-tone, to Chowles, “There will be fine plunder for us.  We must manage to carry off all that plate while they are engaged in the masque.”

“You must do it yourself, then,” returned Chowles, in the same tone—­“for I shall have to play a principal part in the entertainment, and as the king himself will be present, I cannot give up such an opportunity of distinguishing myself.”