It was, indeed, the King’s omnipotent favourite.  Magnificently attired, the Marquis of Buckingham as far outshone his companions in splendour of habiliments as he did in stateliness of carriage and beauty of person.  Rising from the table, and donning his plumed hat, looped with diamonds, with a gesture worthy of a monarch, while all the rest remained uncovered, as if in recognition of his superior dignity, he descended to where Sir Giles Mompesson was standing.  It need scarcely be said that Jocelyn Mounchensey had never seen the superb favourite before; but he did not require to be told whom he beheld, so perfectly did Buckingham realize the descriptions given of him.  A little above the ordinary height, with a figure of the most perfect symmetry, and features as aristocratic and haughty as handsome, it was impossible to conceive a prouder or a nobler-looking personage than the marquis.  His costume was splendid, consisting of a doublet of white cut velvet, roped with pearls, which fitted him to admiration.  Over his shoulders he wore a mantle of watchet-coloured velvet; his neck was encircled by a falling band; and silken hose of the same colour as the doublet completed his costume.  His deportment was singularly dignified; but his manner might have conciliated more if it had been less imperious and disdainful.

Sir Giles made a profound obeisance as Buckingham advanced towards him.  His salutation was haughtily returned.

“I have heard something of your mode of proceeding with the keepers of taverns and hostels, Sir Giles,” the proud marquis said; “but this is the first occasion on which I have seen it put in practice,—­and I am free to confess that you deal not over gently with them, if the present may be considered a specimen of your ordinary conduct.  Those letters-patent were not confided to you by his Majesty to distress his subjects, for your own particular advantage and profit, but to benefit the community by keeping such places of entertainment in better order than heretofore.  I fear you have somewhat abused your warrant, Sir Giles.”

“If to devote myself, heart and soul, to his Majesty’s service, and to enrich his Majesty’s exchequer be to abuse my warrant, I have done so, my lord Marquis,—­but not otherwise.  I have ever vindicated the dignity and authority of the Crown.  You have just heard that, though my own just claims have been defeated by the inadvertence of my co-patentee, I have advanced those of the King.”

“The King relinquishes all claims in the present case,” Buckingham replied.  “His gracious Majesty gave me full discretion in the matter, and I act as I know he himself would have acted.”

And waving his hand to signify that he would listen to no remonstrances, the Marquis turned to Madame Bonaventure, who instantly prostrated herself before him, as she would have done before royalty itself, warmly thanking him for his protection.

“You must thank my Lord Roos, and not me, Madame,” Buckingham graciously replied, raising her as he spoke.  “It was at his lordship’s instance I came here.  He takes a warm interest in you, Madame.”