At present the doors of the sideboard, which, when open, formed a room of itself, were closed.
They had not yet come to the material enjoyments; they were still occupied in absorbing the spiritual.

The brilliant and select company that filled the hall was still for some time condemned to be silent, and to shut up within them their laughter and gossip, their backbiting and slander, their flattery and hypocrisy.
Just now a pause ensued.

The king, with Croke, had recited to his court a scene from "Antigone"; and they were just taking breath from the wonderful and exalted enjoyment of having just heard a language of which they understood not a word, but which they found to be very beautiful, since the king admired it.
Henry the Eighth had again leaned back on his golden throne, and, panting, rested from his prodigious exertion; and while he rested and dreamed, an invisible band played a piece of music composed by the king himself, and which, with its serious and solemn movement, strangely contrasted with this room so brilliant and cheerful--with this splendid, laughing and jesting assembly.
For the king had bidden them amuse themselves and be gay; to give themselves up to unrestrained chit-chat.

It was, therefore, natural for them to laugh, and to appear not to notice the king's exhaustion and repose.
Besides, they had not for a long time seen Henry so cheerful, so full of youthful life, so sparkling with wit and humor, as on this evening.

His mouth was overflowing with jests that made the gentlemen laugh, and the beautiful, brilliant women blush, and, above all, the young queen, who sat by him on the rich and splendid throne, and now and then threw stolen and longing glances at her lover, for whom she would willingly and gladly have given her royal crown and her throne.
When the king saw how Catharine blushed, he turned to her, and in his tenderest tone begged her pardon for his jest, which, however, in its sauciness, served only to make his queen still more beautiful, still more bewitching.