MICHEL AND ANGELE, Complete

[A Ladder of Swords]

By Gilbert Parker

INTRODUCTION

If it does not seem too childish a candour to say so, 'Michel andAngele' always seems to me like some old letter lifted out of an ancientcabinet with the faint perfume of bygone days upon it. Perhaps that isbecause the story itself had its origin in a true but brief record ofsome good Huguenots who fled from France and took refuge in England, tobe found, as the book declares, at the Walloon Church, in Southampton. 

The record in the first paragraphs of the first chapter of the bookfascinated my imagination, and I wove round Michel de la Foret andAngele Aubert a soft, bright cloud of romance which would not leave myvision until I sat down and wrote out what, in the writing, seemed tome a true history. It was as though some telepathy between the daysof Elizabeth and our own controlled me--self-hypnotism, I suppose;but still, there it was. The story, in its original form, was firstpublished in 'Harper's Weekly' under the name of Michel and Angele, butthe fear, I think, that many people would mispronounce the first word ofthe title, induced me to change it when, double in length, it became avolume called 'A Ladder of Swords'. 

As it originally appeared, I wrote it in the Island of Jersey, out atthe little Bay of Rozel in a house called La Chaire, a few yards awayfrom the bay itself, and having a pretty garden with a seat at itshighest point, from which, beyond the little bay, the English Channelran away to the Atlantic. It was written in complete seclusion. I hadno visitors; there was no one near, indeed, except the landlord of thelittle hotel in the bay, and his wife. All through the Island, however, were people whom I knew, like the Malet de Carterets, the Lemprieres, and old General Pipon, for whom the Jersey of three hundred yearsago was as near as the Jersey of to-day, so do the Jersiais prize, cultivate, and conserve every hour of its recorded history. 

As the sea opens out to a vessel making between the promontories to themain, so, while writing this tale which originally was short, the largerscheme of 'The Battle of the Strong' spread out before me, luring me, as though in the distance were the Fortunate Isles. Eight years after'Michel and Angele' was written and first published in 'Harper'sWeekly', I decided to give it the dignity of a full-grown romance. Foryears I had felt that it had the essentials for a larger canvas, and atthe earnest solicitation of Messrs. Harper & Brothers I settled to dowhat had long been in my mind. The narrative grew as naturally fromwhat it was to larger stature as anything that had been devised upon agreater scale at the beginning; and in London town I had the same joyin the company of Michel and Angele--and a vastly increased joy in thecompany of Lempriere, the hulking, joyous giant--as I had years beforein Jersey itself when the story first stirred in my mind and reached mypen. 

While adverse reviews of the book were few if any, it cannot be saidthat this romance is a companion in popularity with, for instance, 'TheRight of Way'. It had its friends, but it has apparently appealed tosmaller audiences--to those who watch the world go by; who are notsearching for the exposure of life's grim realities; who do not seek theclinic of the soul's tragedies. There was tragedy here, but there wascomedy too; there was also joy and faith, patience and courage. Thebook, taken by itself, could not make a permanent reputation for anyman, but it has its place in the scheme of my work, and I would not haveit otherwise than it is. 

A NOTE

There will be found a few anachronisms in this tale, but none soimportant as to give a wrong impression of the events of QueenElizabeth's reign. 

MICHEL AND ANGELE

CHAPTER I

If you go to Southampton and search the register of the Walloon Churchthere, you will find that in the summer of '57, "Madame Vefue de Montgomery with all her family and servants were admitted to the Communion"--"Tous ceux ce furent Recus la a Cene du '57, comme passans, sans avoir Rendu Raison de la foj, mes sur la tesmognage de Mons. Forest, Ministre de Madame, quj certifia quj ne cognoisoit Rien en tout ceux la po' quoy Il ne leur deust administre la Cene s'il estoit en lieu po' a ferre. "

There is another striking record, which says that in August of the sameyear Demoiselle Angele Claude Aubert, daughter of Monsieur de la HaieAubert, Councillor of the Parliament of Rouen, was married to Michel dela Foret, of the most noble Flemish family of that name. 

When I first saw these records, now grown dim with time, I fell towondering what was the real life-history of these two people. Forthwith, in imagination, I began to make their story piece by piece; and I hadreached a romantic 'denoument' satisfactory to myself and in sympathywith fact, when the Angel of Accident stepped forward with some "humandocuments. " Then I found that my tale, woven back from the two obscurerecords I have given, was the true story of two most unhappy yet mosthappy people. From the note struck in my mind, when my finger touchedthat sorrowful page in the register of the Church of the Refugees atSouthampton, had spread out the whole melody and the very book of thesong. 

One of the later-discovered records was a letter, tear-stained, faded, beautifully written in old French, from Demoiselle Angele Claude Aubertto Michel de la Foret at Anvers in March of the year 157. The letterlies beside me as I write, and I can scarcely believe that three anda quarter centuries have passed since it was written, and that she whowrote it was but eighteen years old at the time. I translate it intoEnglish, though it is impossible adequately to carry over either theflavour or the idiom of the language:

 Written on this May Day of the year 157, at the place hight Rozel in the Manor called of the same of Jersey Isle, to Michel de la Foret, at Anvers in Flanders. 

 MICHEL, Thy good letter by safe carriage cometh to my hand, bringing to my heart a lightness it hath not known since that day when I was hastily carried to the port of St. Malo, and thou towards the King his prison. In what great fear have I lived, having no news of thee and fearing all manner of mischance! But our God hath benignly saved thee from death, and me He hath set safely here in this isle of the sea. 

 Thou hast ever been a brave soldier, enduring and not fearing; thou shalt find enow to keep thy blood stirring in these days of trial and peril to us who are so opprobriously called Les Huguenots. If thou wouldst know more of my mind thereupon, come hither. Safety is here, and work for thee--smugglers and pirates do abound on these coasts, and Popish wolves do harry the flock even in this island province of England. Michel, I plead for the cause which thou hast nobly espoused, but--alas! my selfish heart, where thou art lie work and fighting, and the same high cause, and sadly, I confess, it is for mine own happiness that I ask thee to come. I wot well that escape from France hath peril, that the way hither from that point upon yonder coast called Carteret is hazardous, but yet-but yet all ways to happiness are set with hazard. 

 If thou dost come to Carteret thou wilt see two lights turning this- wards: one upon a headland called Tour de Rozel, and one upon the great rock called of the Ecrehos. These will be in line with thy sight by the sands of Hatainville. Near by the Tour de Rozel shall I be watching and awaiting thee. By day and night doth my prayer ascend for thee. 

 The messenger who bears this to thee (a piratical knave with a most kind heart, having, I am told, a wife in every port of France and of England the south, a most heinous sin!) will wait for thy answer, or will bring thee hither, which is still better. He is worthy of trust if thou makest him swear by the little finger of St. Peter. By all other swearings he doth deceive freely. 

 The Lord make thee true, Michel. If thou art faithful to me, I shall know how faithful thou art in all; for thy vows to me were most frequent and pronounced, with a full savour that might warrant short seasoning. Yet, because thou mayst still be given to such dear fantasies of truth as were on thy lips in those dark days wherein thy sword saved my life 'twixt Paris and Rouen, I tell thee now that I do love thee, and shall so love when, as my heart inspires me, the cloud shall fall that will hide us from each other forever. 

 ANGELE. 

 An Afterword:

 I doubt not we shall come to the heights where there is peace, though we climb thereto by a ladder of swords. A. 

Some years before Angele's letter was written, Michel de la Foret hadbecome an officer in the army of Comte Gabriel de Montgomery, and foughtwith him until what time the great chief was besieged in the Castle ofDomfront in Normandy. When the siege grew desperate, Montgomery besoughtthe intrepid young Huguenot soldier to escort Madame de Montgomery toEngland, to be safe from the oppression and misery sure to follow anymishap to this noble leader of the Camisards. 

At the very moment of departure of the refugees from Domfront with theComtesse, Angele's messenger--the "piratical knave with the most kindheart" presented himself, delivered her letter to De la Foret, andproceeded with the party to the coast of Normandy by St. Brieuc. Embarking there in a lugger which Buonespoir the pirate secured forthem, they made for England. 

Having come but half-way of the Channel, the lugger was stopped by anEnglish frigate. After much persuasion the captain of the frigate agreedto land Madame de Montgomery upon the island of Jersey, but forced De laForet to return to the coast of France; and Buonespoir elected to returnwith him. 

CHAPTER II

Meanwhile Angele had gone through many phases of alternate hope anddespair. She knew that Montgomery the Camisard was dead, and a rumour, carried by refugees, reached her that De la Foret had been with him tothe end. To this was presently added the word that De la Foret had beenbeheaded. But one day she learned that the Comtesse de Montgomerywas sheltered by the Governor, Sir Hugh Pawlett, her kinsman, at MontOrgueil Castle. Thither she went in fear from her refuge at Rozel, andwas admitted to the Comtesse. There she learned the joyful truth that Dela Foret had not been slain, and was in hiding on the coast of Normandy. 

The long waiting was a sore trial, yet laughter was often upon herlips henceforth. The peasants, the farmers and fishermen of Jersey, at first--as they have ever been--little inclined towards strangers, learned at last to look for her in the fields and upon the shore, andlaughed in response, they knew not why, to the quick smiling ofher eyes. She even learned to speak their unmusical but friendlyNorman-Jersey French. There were at least a half-dozen fishermen who, for her, would have gone at night straight to the Witches' Rock in St. Clement's Bay--and this was bravery unmatched. 

It came to be known along the coast that "Ma'm'selle" was waiting for alover fleeing from the French coast. This gave her fresh interest in theeyes of the serfs and sailors and their women folk, who at first werenot inclined towards the Huguenot maiden, partly because she was French, and partly because she was not a Catholic. But even these, when they sawthat she never talked religiously, that she was fast learning to speaktheir own homely patois, and that in the sickness of their children shewas untiring in her kindness, forgave the austerity of the gloomy-browedold man her father, who spoke to them distantly, or never spoke at all;and her position was secure. Then, upon the other hand, the gentry ofthe manors, seeing the friendship grow between her and the Comtesse deMontgomery at Mont Orgueil Castle, made courteous advances towards herfather, and towards herself through him. 

She could scarce have counted the number of times she climbed the greathill like a fortress at the lift of the little bay of Rozel, and fromthe Nez du Guet scanned the sea for a sail and the sky for fair weather. When her eyes were not thus busy, they were searching the lee of thehillside round for yellow lilies, and the valley below for the campion, the daffodil, and the thousand pretty ferns growing in profusion there. Every night she looked out to see that her signal fire was lit upon theNez du Guet, and she never went to bed without taking one last look overthe sea, in the restless inveterate hope which at once sustained her anddevoured her. 

But the longest waiting must end. It came on the evening of the very daythat the Seigneur of Rozel went to Angele's father and bluntly told himhe was ready to forego all Norman-Jersey prejudice against the Frenchand the Huguenot religion, and take Angele to wife without penny orestate. 

In reply to the Seigneur, Monsieur Aubert said that he was conscious ofan honour, and referred Monsieur to his daughter, who must answer forherself; but he must tell Monsieur of Rozel that Monsieur's religionwould, in his own sight, be a high bar to the union. To that theSeigneur said that no religion that he had could be a bar to anything atall; and so long as the young lady could manage her household, drive agood bargain with the craftsmen and hucksters, and have the handsomestface and manners in the Channel Islands, he'd ask no more; and she mightpray for him and his salvation without let or hindrance. 

The Seigneur found the young lady in a little retreat among the rocks, called by the natives La Chaire. Here she sat sewing upon some coarselinen for a poor fisherwoman's babe when the Seigneur came near. Sheheard the scrunch of his heels upon the gravel, the clank of his swordupon the rocks, and looked up with a flush, her needle poised; for noneshould know of her presence in this place save her father. When she sawwho was her visitor, she rose. After greeting and compliment, none toofinely put, but more generous than fitted with Jersey parsimony, thegentleman of Rozel came at once to the point. 

"My name is none too bad, " said he--"Raoul Lempriere, of the Lemprieresthat have been here since Rollo ruled in Normandy. My estate is noneworse than any in the whole islands; I have more horses and dogs thanany gentleman of my acres; and I am more in favour at court than DeCarteret of St. Ouen's. I am the Queen's butler, and I am the first thatroyal favour granted to set up three dove-cotes, one by St. Aubin's, oneby St. Helier's, and one at Rozel: and--and, " he added, with a lumberingattempt at humour--"and, on my oath, I'll set up another dove-cote without my sovereign's favour, with your leave alone. By our Lady, I dolove that colour in yon cheek! Just such a colour had my mother whenshe snatched from the head of my cousin of Carteret's milk-maid wifethe bonnet of a lady of quality and bade her get to her heifers. God'sbeauty! but 'tis a colour of red primroses in thy cheeks and bluecampions in thine eyes. Come, I warrant I can deepen that colour"--hebowed low--"Madame of Rozel, if it be not too soon!"

The girl listened to this cheerful and loquacious proposal and courtshipall in one, ending with the premature bestowal of a title, in mingledanger, amusement, disdain, and apprehension. Her heart fluttered, thenstood still, then flew up in her throat, then grew terribly hot and hurther, so that she pressed her hand to her bosom as though that might easeit. By the time he had finished, drawn himself up, and struck his footupon the ground in burly emphasis of his devoted statements, the girlhad sufficiently recovered to answer him composedly, and with a littleglint of demure humour in her eyes. She loved another man; she didnot care so much as a spark for this happy, swearing, swashbucklinggentleman; yet she saw he had meant to do her honour. He had treated heras courteously as was in him to do; he chose her out from all the ladiesof his acquaintance to make her an honest offer of his hand--he hadsaid nothing about his heart; he would, should she marry him, throw herscraps of good-humour, bearish tenderness, drink to her health among hisfellows, and respect and admire her--even exalt her almost to the rankof a man in his own eyes; and he had the tolerance of the open-heartedand open-handed man. All these things were as much a compliment toher as though she were not a despised Huguenot, an exiled lady of nofortune. She looked at him a moment with an almost solemn intensity, sothat he shifted his ground uneasily, but at once smiled encouragingly, to relieve her embarrassment at the unexpected honour done her. She hadremained standing; now, as he made a step towards her, she sank downupon the seat, and waved him back courteously. 

"A moment, Monsieur of Rozel, " she ventured. "Did my father send you tome?"

He inclined his head and smiled again. 

"Did you say to him what you have said to me?" she asked, not quitewithout a touch of malice. 

"I left out about the colour in the cheek, " he answered, with a smirk atwhat he took to be the quickness of his wit. 

"You kept your paint-pot for me, " she replied softly. 

"And the dove-cote, too, " he rejoined, bowing finely, and almost carriedoff his feet by his own brilliance. She became serious at once--soquickly that he was ill prepared for it, and could do little but stareand pluck at the tassel of his sword; for he was embarrassed before thismaiden, who changed as quickly as the currents change under the brow ofthe Couperon Cliff, behind which lay his manor-house of Rozel. 

"I have visited at your manor, Monsieur of Rozel. I have seen the statein which you live, your retainers, your men-at-arms, your farming-folk, and your sailormen. I know how your Queen receives you; how your honouris as stable as your fief. "

He drew himself up again proudly. He could understand this speech. 

"Your horses and your hounds I have seen, " she added, "your men-servantsand your maid-servants, your fields of corn, your orchards, and yourlarder. I have sometimes broken the Commandment and coveted them andenvied you. "

"Break the Commandment again, for the last time, " he cried, delightedand boisterous. "Let us not waste words, lady. Let's kiss and have itover. "

Her eyes flashed. "I coveted them and envied you; but then, I am but avain girl at times, and vanity is easier to me than humbleness. "

"Blood of man, but I cannot understand so various a creature!" he brokein, again puzzled. 

"There is a little chapel in the dell beside your manor, Monsieur. Ifyou will go there, and get upon your knees, and pray till the candles nomore burn, and the Popish images crumble in their places, you will yetnever understand myself or any woman. "

"There's no question of Popish images between us, " he answered, vainlytrying for foothold. "Pray as you please, and I'll see no harm comes tothe Mistress of Rozel. "

He was out of his bearings and impatient. Religion to him was a dullrecreation invented chiefly for women. She became plain enough now. "'Tis no images nor religion that stands between us, " she answered, "though they might well do so. It is that I do not love you, Monsieur ofRozel. "

His face, which had slowly clouded, suddenly cleared. "Love! Love!" Helaughed good-humouredly. "Love comes, I'm told, with marriage. But wecan do well enough without fugling on that pipe. Come, come, dost thinkI'm not a proper man and a gentleman? Dost think I'll not use thee welland 'fend thee, Huguenot though thou art, 'gainst trouble or fret or anyman's persecutions--be he my Lord Bishop, my Lord Chancellor, or King ofFrance, or any other?"

She came a step closer to him, even as though she would lay a hand uponhis arm. "I believe that you would do all that in you lay, " she answeredsteadily. "Yours is a rough wooing, but it is honest--"

"Rough! Rough!" he protested, for he thought he had behaved like someAdonis. Was it not ten years only since he had been at Court!

"Be assured, Monsieur, that I know how to prize the man who speaks afterthe light given him. I know that you are a brave and valorous gentleman. I must thank you most truly and heartily, but, Monsieur, you and yoursare not for me. Seek elsewhere, among your own people, in your ownreligion and language and position, the Mistress of Rozel. "

He was dumfounded. Now he comprehended the plain fact that he had beendeclined. 

"You send me packing!" he blurted out, getting red in the face. 

"Ah, no! Say it is my misfortune that I cannot give myself the greathonour, " she said; in her tone a little disdainful dryness, a littlepity, a little feeling that here was a good friend lost. 

"It's not because of the French soldier that was with Montgomery atDomfront?--I've heard that story. But he's gone to heaven, and 'tis vaincrying for last year's breath, " he added, with proud philosophy. 

"He is not dead. And if he were, " she added, "do you think, Monsieur, that we should find it easier to cross the gulf between us?"

"Tut, tut, that bugbear Love!" he said shortly. "And so you'd lose agood friend for a dead lover? I' faith, I'd befriend thee well if thouwert my wife, Ma'm'selle. "

"It is hard for those who need friends to lose them, " she answeredsadly. 

The sorrow of her position crept in upon her and filled her eyes withtears. She turned them to the sea-instinctively towards that point onthe shore where she thought it likely Michel might be; as though bylooking she might find comfort and support in this hard hour. 

Even as she gazed into the soft afternoon light she could see, far over, a little sail standing out towards the Ecrehos. Not once in six monthsmight the coast of France be seen so clearly. One might almost havenoted people walking on the beach. This was no good token, for when thatcoast may be seen with great distinctness a storm follows hard after. The girl knew this; and though she could not know that this was Michelde la Foret's boat, the possibility fixed itself in her mind. Shequickly scanned the horizon. Yes, there in the north-west was gatheringa dark-blue haze, hanging like small filmy curtains in the sky. 

The Seigneur of Rozel presently broke the silence so awkward for him. Hehad seen the tears in her eyes, and though he could not guess the cause, he vaguely thought it might be due to his announcement that she hadlost a friend. He was magnanimous at once, and he meant what he said andwould stand by it through thick and thin. 

"Well, well, I'll be thy everlasting friend if not thy husband, " he saidwith ornate generosity. "Cheer thy heart, lady. "

With a sudden impulse she seized his hand and kissed it, and, turning, ran swiftly down the rocks towards her home. 

He stood and looked after her, then, dumfounded, at the hand she hadkissed. 

"Blood of my heart!" he said, and shook his head in utter amazement. 

Then he turned and looked out upon the Channel. He saw the little boatAngele had descried making from France. Glancing at the sky, "What foolscome there!" he said anxiously. 

They were Michel de la Foret and Buonespoir the pirate, in ablack-bellied cutter with red sails. 

CHAPTER III

For weeks De la Foret and Buonespoir had lain in hiding at St. Brieuc. At last Buonespoir declared all was ready once again. He had secured forthe Camisard the passport and clothes of a priest who had but just diedat Granville. Once again they made the attempt to reach English soil. 

Standing out from Carteret on the Belle Suzanne, they steered for thelight upon the Marmotier Rocks of the Ecrehos, which Angele had paid afisherman to keep going every night. This light had caused the Frenchand English frigates some uneasiness, and they had patrolled the Channelfrom Cap de la Hague to the Bay of St. Brieuc with a vigilance worthyof a larger cause. One fine day an English frigate anchored off theEcrehos, and the fisherman was seized. He, poor man, swore that he keptthe light burning to guide his brother fishermen to and fro betweenBoulay Bay and the Ecrehos. The captain of the frigate tried severities;but the fisherman stuck to his tale, and the light burned on asbefore--a lantern stuck upon a pole. One day, with a telescope, Buonespoir had seen the exact position of the staff supporting thelight, and had mapped out his course accordingly. He would head straightfor the beacon and pass between the Marmotier and the Maitre Ile, whereis a narrow channel for a boat drawing only a few feet of water. Unlesshe made this, he must run south and skirt the Ecriviere Rock andbank, where the streams setting over the sandy ridges make a confusingperilous sea to mariners in bad weather. Else, he must sail northbetween the Ecrehos and the Dirouilles, in the channel called Etoc, atortuous and dangerous passage save in good weather, and then safe onlyto the mariner who knows the floor of that strait like his own hand. Dela Foret was wholly in the hands of Buonespoir, for he knew nothing ofthese waters and coasts; also he was a soldier and no sailor. 

They cleared Cape Carteret with a fair wind from the north-east, whichshould carry them safely as the bird flies to the haven of Rozel. Thehigh, pinkish sands of Hatainville were behind them; the treacherousTaillepied Rocks lay to the north, and a sweet sea before. Nothing couldhave seemed fairer and more hopeful. But a few old fishermen on shoreat Carteret shook their heads dubiously, and at Port Bail, some milesbelow, a disabled naval officer, watching through a glass, rasped out, "Criminals or fools!" But he shrugged his shoulders, for if they werecriminals he was sure they would expiate their crimes this night, and ifthey were fools--he had no pity for fools. 

But Buonespoir knew his danger. Truth is, he had chosen this nightbecause they would be safest from pursuit, because no sensible seafaringman, were he King's officer or another, would venture forth upon theimpish Channel, save to court disaster. Pirate, and soldier in priest'sgarb, had frankly taken the chances. 

With a fair wind they might, with all canvas set--mainsail, foresail, jib, and fore-topsail--make Rozel Bay within two hours and a quarter. All seemed well for a brief half-hour. Then, even as the passage betweenthe Marmotier and the Ecrehos opened out, the wind suddenly shifted fromthe north-east to the southwest and a squall came hurrying on them--afew moments too soon; for, had they been clear of the Ecrehos, clear ofthe Taillepieds, Felee Bank, and the Ecriviere, they could have stoodout towards the north in a more open sea. 

Yet there was one thing in their favour: the tide was now running hardfrom the north-west, so fighting for them while the wind was againstthem. Their only safety lay in getting beyond the Ecrehos. If theyattempted to run in to the Marmotier for safety, they would presently beat the mercy of the French. To trust their doubtful fortunes and bear onwas the only way. The tide was running fast. They gave the mainsail tothe wind still more, and bore on towards the passage. At last, as theywere opening on it, the wind suddenly veered full north-east. The sailsflapped, the boat seemed to hover for a moment, and then a wave swepther towards the rocks. Buonespoir put the helm hard over, she wentabout, and they close-hauled her as she trembled towards the rockyopening. 

This was the critical instant. A heavy sea was running, the gale wasblowing hard from the north-east, and under the close-hauled sail theBelle Suzanne was lying over dangerously. But the tide, too, was runninghard from the south, fighting the wind; and, at the moment when allseemed terribly uncertain, swept them past the opening and into theswift-running channel, where the indraught sucked them through to themore open water beyond. 

Although the Belle Suzanne was in more open water now, the danger wasnot over. Ahead lay a treacherous sea, around them roaring winds, andthe perilous coast of Jersey beyond all. 

"Do you think we shall land?" quietly asked De la Foret, nodding towardsthe Jersey coast. 

"As many chances 'gainst it as for it, M'sieu', " said Buonespoir, turning his face to the north, for the wind had veered again tonorth-east, and he feared its passing to the north-west, giving them ahead-wind and a swooping sea. 

Night came down, but with a clear sky and a bright moon; the wind, however, not abating. The next three hours were spent in tacking, inbeating towards the Jersey coast under seas which almost swamped them. They were standing off about a mile from the island, and could seelighted fires and groups of people upon the shore, when suddenly a galecame out from the southwest, the wind having again shifted. With anoath, Buonespoir put the helm hard over, the Belle Suzanne came aboutquickly, but as the gale struck her, the mast snapped like a pencil, sheheeled over, and the two adventurers were engulfed in the waves. 

A cry of dismay went up from the watchers on the shore. They turned witha half-conscious sympathy towards Angele, for her story was known byall, and in her face they read her mortal fear, though she made no cry, but only clasped her hands in agony. Her heart told her that yonderMichel de la Foret was fighting for his life. For an instant only shestood, the terror of death in her eyes, then she turned to the excitedfishermen near. 

"Men, oh men, " she cried, "will you not save them? Will no one come withme?"

Some shook their heads sullenly, others appeared uncertain, but theirwives and children clung to them, and none stirred. Looking roundhelplessly, Angele saw the tall figure of the Seigneur of Rozel. He hadbeen watching the scene for some time. Now he came quickly to her. 

"Is it the very man?" he asked her, jerking a finger towards thestruggling figures in the sea. 

"Yes, oh yes, " she replied, nodding her head piteously. "God tells myheart it is. "

Her father drew near and interposed. 

"Let us kneel and pray for two dying men, " said he, and straightwayknelt upon the sand. 

"By St. Martin, we've better medicine than that, apothecary!" saidLempriere of Rozel loudly, and, turning round, summoned two serving-men. "Launch my strong boat, " he added. "We will pick these gentlemen fromthe brine, or know the end of it all. "

The men hurried gloomily to the long-boat, ran her down to the shore andinto the surf. 

"You are going--you are going to save him, dear Seigneur?" asked thegirl tremulously. 

"To save him--that's to be seen, mistress, " answered Lempriere, and advanced to the fishermen. By dint of hard words, and as heartyencouragement and promises, he got a half-dozen strong sailors to manthe boat. 

A moment after, they were all in. At a motion from the Seigneur, theboat was shot out into the surf, and a cheer from the shore gave heartto De la Foret and Buonespoir, who were being driven upon the rocks. 

The Jerseymen rowed gallantly; and the Seigneur, to give them heart, promised a shilling, a capon, and a gallon of beer to each, if therescue was made. Again and again the two men seemed to sink beneath thesea, and again and again they came to the surface and battled further, torn, battered, and bloody, but not beaten. Cries of "We're coming, gentles, we're coming!" from the Seigneur of Rozel, came ringing throughthe surf to the dulled ears of the drowning men, and they struggled on. 

There never was a more gallant rescue. Almost at their last gasp the twowere rescued. 

"Mistress Aubert sends you welcome, sir, if you be Michel de la Foret, "said Lempriere of Rozel, and offered the fugitive his horn of liquor ashe lay blown and beaten in the boat. 

"I am he, " De la Foret answered. "I owe you my life, Monsieur, " headded. 

Lempriere laughed. "You owe it to the lady; and I doubt you can properlypay the debt, " he answered, with a toss of the head; for had not thelady refused him, the Seigneur of Rozel, six feet six in height, and allelse in proportion, while this gentleman was scarce six feet. 

"We can have no quarrel upon the point, " answered De la Foret, reachingout his hand; "you have at least done tough work for her, and if Icannot pay in gold, I can in kind. It was a generous deed, and it hasmade a friend for ever of Michel de la Foret. "

"Raoul Lempriere of Rozel they call me, Michel de la Foret, and by Rollothe Duke, but I'll take your word in the way of friendship, as the ladyyonder takes it for riper fruit! Though, faith, 'tis fruit of a shortsummer, to my thinking. "

All this while Buonespoir the pirate, his face covered with blood, hadbeen swearing by the little finger of St. Peter that each Jerseymanthere should have the half of a keg of rum. He went so far in gratitudeas to offer the price of ten sheep which he had once secretly raidedfrom the Seigneur of Rozel and sold in France; for which he had beenseized on his later return to the island, and had escaped withoutpunishment. 

Hearing, Lempriere of Rozel roared at him in anger: "Durst speak to me!For every fleece you thieved I'll have you flayed with bow-strings ifever I sight your face within my boundaries. "

"Then I'll fetch and carry no more for M'sieu' of Rozel, " saidBuonespoir, in an offended tone, but grinning under his reddish beard. 

"When didst fetch and carry for me, varlet?" Lempriere roared again. 

"When the Seigneur of Rozel fell from his horse, overslung with sack, the night of the royal Duke's visit, and the footpads were on him, Icarried him on my back to the lodge of Rozel Manor. The footpads hadscores to settle with the great Rozel. "

For a moment the Seigneur stared, then roared again, but this time withlaughter. 

"By the devil and Rollo, I have sworn to this hour that there was no manin the isle could have carried me on his shoulders. And I was right, forJersiais you're none, neither by adoption nor grace, but a citizen ofthe sea. "

He laughed again as a wave swept over them, drenching them, and a suddensquall of wind came out of the north. "There's no better head in theisle than mine for measurement and thinking, and I swore no man undereighteen stone could carry me, and I am twenty-five--I take you to benineteen stone, eh?"

"Nineteen, less two ounces, " grinned Buonespoir. 

"I'll laugh De Carteret of St. Ouen's out of his stockings over this, "answered Lempriere. "Trust me for knowing weights and measures! Lookyou, varlet, thy sins be forgiven thee. I care not about the fleeces, ifthere be no more stealing. St. Ouen's has no head--I said no one man inJersey could have done it--I'm heavier by three stone than any man inthe island. " Thereafter there was little speaking among them, for thedanger was greater as they neared the shore. The wind and the sea wereagainst them; the tide, however, was in their favour. Others besidesM. Aubert offered up prayers for the safe-landing of the rescued andrescuers. Presently an ancient fisherman broke out into a rude sailor'schanty, and every voice, even those of the two Huguenots, took it up:

 "When the Four Winds, the Wrestlers, strive with the Sun, When the Sun is slain in the dark; When the stars burn out, and the night cries To the blind sea-reapers, and they rise, And the water-ways are stark-- God save us when the reapers reap! When the ships sweep in with the tide to the shore, And the little white boats return no more; When the reapers reap, Lord give Thy sailors sleep, If Thou cast us not upon the shore, To bless Thee evermore: To walk in Thy sight as heretofore Though the way of the Lord be steep! By Thy grace, Show Thy face, Lord of the land and the deep!"

The song stilled at last. It died away in the roar of the surf, inthe happy cries of foolish women, and the laughter of men back froma dangerous adventure. As the Seigneur's boat was drawn up the shore, Angele threw herself into the arms of Michel de la Foret, the soldierdressed as a priest. 

Lempriere of Rozel stood abashed before this rich display of feeling. In his hottest youth he could not have made such passionate motions ofaffection. His feelings ran neither high nor broad, but neither did theyrun low and muddy. His nature was a straight level of sensibility--arough stream between high banks of prejudice, topped with the foam ofvanity, now brawling in season, and now going steady and strong to thesea. Angele had come to feel what he was beneath the surface. Shefelt how unimaginative he was, and how his humour, which was but thehorse-play of vanity, helped him little to understand the world orhimself. His vanity was ridiculous, his self-importance was againstknowledge or wisdom; and Heaven had given him a small brain, a big andnoble heart, a pedigree back to Rollo, and the absurd pride of a littlelord in a little land. Angele knew all this; but realised also that hehad offered her all he was able to offer to any woman. 

She went now and put out both hands to him. "I shall ever pray God'sblessing on the lord of Rozel, " she said, in a low voice. 

"'Twould fit me no better than St. Ouen's sword fits his fingers. I'lltake thine own benison, lady--but on my cheek, not on my hand as thisday before at four of the clock. " His big voice lowered. "Come, come, the hand thou kissed, it hath been the hand of a friend to thee, asRaoul Lempriere of Rozel said he'd be. Thy lips upon his cheek, thoughit be but a rough fellow's fancy, and I warrant, come good, comeill, Rozel's face will never be turned from thee. Pooh, pooh! let yonsoldier-priest shut his eyes a minute; this is 'tween me and thee; andwhat's done before the world's without shame. "

He stopped short, his black eyes blazing with honest mirth and kindness, his breath short, having spoken in such haste. 

Her eyes could scarce see him, so full of tears were they; and, standingon tiptoe, she kissed him upon each cheek. 

"'Tis much to get for so little given, " she said, with a quiver in hervoice; "yet this price for friendship would be too high to pay to anysave the Seigneur of Rozel. "

She hastily turned to the men who had rescued Michel and Buonespoir. "If I had riches, riches ye should have, brave men of Jersey, " she said;"but I have naught save love and thanks, and my prayers too, if ye willhave them. "

"'Tis a man's duty to save his fellow an' he can, " cried a gauntfisherman, whose daughter was holding to his lips a bowl of conger-eelsoup. 

"'Twas a good deed to send us forth to save a priest of Holy Church, "cried a weazened boat-builder with a giant's arm, as he buried hisface in a cup of sack, and plunged his hand into a fishwife's basket oflimpets. 

"Aye, but what means she by kissing and arm-getting with a priest?"cried a snarling vraic-gatherer. "'Tis some jest upon Holy Church, oryon priest is no better than common men but an idle shame. "

By this time Michel was among them. "Priest I am none, but a soldier, "he said in a loud voice, and told them bluntly the reasons for hisdisguise; then, taking a purse from his pocket, thrust into the handsof his rescuers and their families pieces of silver and gave them bravewords of thanks. 

But the Seigneur was not to be outdone in generosity. His vanity ranhigh; he was fain to show Angele what a gorgeous gentleman she hadfailed to make her own; and he was in ripe good-humour all round. 

"Come, ye shall come, all of ye, to the Manor of Rozel, every man andwoman here. Ye shall be fed, and fuddled too ye shall be an' ye will;for honest drink which sends to honest sleep hurts no man. To mykitchen with ye all; and you, messieurs"--turning to M. Aubert and Dela Fore-"and you, Mademoiselle, come, know how open is the door and fullthe table at my Manor of Rozel--St. Ouen's keeps a beggarly board. "

CHAPTER IV

Thus began the friendship of the bragging Seigneur of Rozel for thethree Huguenots, all because he had seen tears in a girl's eyes andmisunderstood them, and because the same girl had kissed him. His pridewas flattered that they should receive protection from him, and theflattery became almost a canonising when De Carteret of St. Ouen'sbrought him to task for harbouring and comforting the despisedHuguenots; for when De Carteret railed he was envious. So henceforthLempriere played Lord Protector with still more boisterous unction. His pride knew no bounds when, three days after the rescue, Sir HughPawlett, the Governor, answering De la Foret's letter requestingpermission to visit the Comtesse de Montgomery, sent him word to fetchDe la Foret to Mont Orgueil Castle. Clanking and blowing, he was showninto the great hall with De la Foret, where waited Sir Hugh and thewidow of the renowned Camisard. Clanking and purring like an enormouscat, he turned his head away to the window when De la Foret dropped onhis knees and kissed the hand of the Comtesse, whose eyes were full oftears. Clanking and gurgling, he sat to a mighty meal of turbot, eels, lobsters, ormers, capons, boar's head, brawn, and mustard, swan, curlew, and spiced meats. This he washed down with bastard, malmsey, and goodale, topped with almonds, comfits, perfumed cherries with "ipocras, "then sprinkled himself with rose-water and dabbled his face and handsin it. Filled to the turret, he lurched to his feet, and drinking to SirHugh's toast, "Her sacred Majesty!" he clanked and roared. "Elizabeth!" as thoughupon the field of battle. He felt the star of De Carteret decliningand Rozel's glory ascending like a comet. Once set in a course, nothingcould change him. Other men might err, but once right, the Seigneur ofRozel was everlasting. 

Of late he had made the cause of Michel de la Foret and Angele Auberthis own. For this he had been raked upon the coals by De Carteret of St. Ouen's and his following, who taunted him with the saying: "Save a thieffrom hanging and he'll cut your throat. " Not that there was ill feelingagainst De la Foret in person. He had won most hearts by a frank yetstill manner, and his story and love for Angele had touched the womenfolk where their hearts were softest. But the island was not true toitself or its history if it did not divide itself into factions, headedby the Seigneurs, and there had been no ground for good division forfive years till De la Foret came. 

Short of actual battle, this new strife was the keenest ever known, for Sir Hugh Pawlett was ranged on the side of the Seigneur of Rozel. Kinsman of the Comtesse de Montgomery, of Queen Elizabeth's ownProtestant religion, and admiring De la Foret, he had given everycountenance to the Camisard refugee. He had even besought the RoyalCourt of Jersey to grant a pardon to Buonespoir the pirate, on conditionthat he should never commit a depredation upon an inhabitant of theisland--this he was to swear to by the little finger of St. Peter. Should he break his word, he was to be banished the island for tenyears, under penalty of death if he returned. When the hour had come forBuonespoir to take the oath, he failed to appear; and the next morningthe Seigneur of St. Ouen's discovered that during the night his cellarhad been raided of two kegs of canary, many flagons of muscadella, potsof anchovies and boxes of candied "eringo, " kept solely for the visitwhich the Queen had promised the island. There was no doubt of themisdemeanant, for Buonespoir returned to De Carteret from St. Brieucthe gabardine of one of his retainers, in which he had carried off thestolen delicacies. 

This aggravated the feud between the partisans of St. Ouen's and Rozel, for Lempriere of Rozel had laughed loudly when he heard of the robbery, and said "'Tis like St. Ouen's to hoard for a Queen and glut a pirate. We feed as we get at Rozel, and will feed the Court well too when itcomes, or I'm no butler to Elizabeth. "

But trouble was at hand for Michel and for his protector. The spiesof Catherine de Medici, mother of the King of France, were everywhere. These had sent word that De la Foret was now attached to the meagresuite of the widow of the great Camisard Montgomery, near the Castle ofMont Orgueil. The Medici, having treacherously slain the chief, becamemad with desire to slay the lieutenant. She was set to have the man, either through diplomacy with England, or to end him by assassinationthrough her spies. Having determined upon his death, with relentlesssoul she pursued the cause as closely as though this exiled soldier werea powerful enemy at the head of an army in France. 

Thus it was that she wrote to Queen Elizabeth, asking that "this arrantfoe of France, this churl, conspirator, and reviler of the Sacraments, be rendered unto our hands for well-deserved punishment as warning toall such evil-doers. " She told Elizabeth of De la Foret's arrival inJersey, disguised as a priest of the Church of France, and set forth hisdoings since landing with the Seigneur of Rozel. Further she went on tosay to "our sister of England" that "these dark figures of murder andrevolt be a peril to the soft peace of this good realm. "

To this, Elizabeth, who had no knowledge of Michel, who desired peacewith France at this time, who had favours to ask of Catherine, and whoin her own realm had fresh reason to fear conspiracy through the Queenof the Scots and others, replied forthwith that "If this De la Foretfalleth into our hands, and if it were found he had in truth conspiredagainst France its throne, had he a million lives, not one shouldremain. " Having despatched this letter, she straightway sent a messengerto Sir Hugh Pawlett in Jersey, making quest of De la Foret, andcommanding that he should be sent to her in England at once. 

When the Queen's messenger arrived at Orgueil Castle, Lempriere chancedto be with Sir Hugh Pawlett, and the contents of Elizabeth's letter weremade known to him. 

At the moment Monsieur of Rozel was munching macaroons and washing themdown with canary. The Governor's announcement was such a shock that hechoked and coughed, the crumbs flying in all directions; and anotherpint of canary must be taken to flush his throat. Thus cleared foraction, he struck out. 

"'Tis St. Ouen's work, " he growled. 

"'Tis the work of the Medici, " said Sir Hugh. "Read, " he added, holdingout the paper. 

Now Lempriere of Rozel had a poor eye for reading. He had wit enough towind about the difficulty. 

"If I see not the Queen's commands, I've no warrant but Sir HughPawlett's words, and I'll to London and ask 'fore her Majesty's face ifshe wrote them, and why. I'll tell my tale and speak my mind, I pledgeyou, sir. "

"You'll offend her Majesty. Her commands are here. " Pawlett tapped theletter with his finger. 

"I'm butler to the Queen, and she will list to me. I'll not smirk andcaper like St. Ouen's; I'll bear me like a man not speaking for himself. I'll speak as Harry her father spoke--straight to the purpose. .. . No, no, no, I'm not to be wheedled, even by a Pawlett, and you shall notask me. If you want Michel de la Foret, come and take him. He is in myhouse. But ye must take him, for come he shall not!"

"You will not oppose the Queen's officers?"

"De la Foret is under my roof. He must be taken. I will give him up tono one; and I'll tell my sovereign these things when I see her in herpalace. "

"I misdoubt you'll play the bear, " said Pawlett, with a dry smile. 

"The Queen's tongue is none so tame. I'll travel by my star, get sweetor sour. "

"Well, well, 'give a man luck, and throw him into the sea, ' is the oldproverb. I'm coming for your friend to-night. "

"I'll be waiting with my fingers on the door, sir, " said Rozel, with agrim vanity and an outrageous pride in himself. 

CHAPTER V

The Seigneur of Rozel found De la Foret at the house of M. Aubert. Hisface was flushed with hard riding, and perhaps the loving attitude ofMichel and Angele deepened it, for at the garden gate the lovers weresaying adieu. 

"You have come for Monsieur de la Foret?" asked Angele anxiously. Herquick look at the Seigneur's face had told her there were things amiss. 

"There's commands from the Queen. They're for the ears of De la Foret, "said the Seigneur. 

"I will hear them too, " said Angele, her colour going, her bearingdetermined. 

The Seigneur looked down at her with boyish appreciation, then saidto De la Foret: "Two Queens make claim for you. The wolfish Catherinewrites to England for her lost Camisard, with much fool's talk about'dark figures, ' and 'conspirators, ' 'churls, ' and foes of 'soft peace';and England takes the bait and sends to Sir Hugh Pawlett yonder. And, inbrief, Monsieur, the Governor is to have you under arrest and send youto England. God knows why two Queens make such a pother over a fellowwith naught but a sword and a lass to love him--though, come to think, 'a man's a man if he have but a hose on his head, ' as the proverb runs. "

De la Foret smiled, then looked grave, as he caught sight of Angele'sface. "'Tis arrest, then?" he asked. 

"'Tis come willy nilly, " answered the Seigneur. "And once they've forcedyou from my doors, I'm for England to speak my mind to the Queen. Ican make interest for her presence--I hold court office, " he added withpuffing confidence. 

Angele looked up at him with quick tears, yet with a smile on her lips. 

"You are going to England for Michel's sake?" she said in a low voice. 

"For Michel, or for you, or for mine honour, what matter, so that I go!"he answered, then added: "there must be haste to Rozel, friend, lest theGovernor take Lempriere's guest like a potato-digger in the fields. "

Putting spurs to his horse, he cantered heavily away, not forgetting towave a pompous farewell to Angele. De la Foret was smiling as he turnedto Angele. She looked wonderingly at him, for she had felt that she mustcomfort him, and she looked not for this sudden change in his manner. 

"Is prison-going so blithe, then?" she asked, with a little uneasy laughwhich was half a sob. 

"It will bring things to a head, " he answered. "After danger and busydays, to be merely safe, it is scarce the life for Michel de la Foret. I have my duty to the Comtesse; I have my love for you; but I seem oflittle use by contrast with my past. And yet, and yet, " he added, halfsadly, "how futile has been all our fighting, so far as human eye cansee. "

"Nothing is futile that is right, Michel, " the girl replied. "Thou hastdone as thy soul answered to God's messages: thou hast fought when thoucouldst, and thou hast sheathed thy blade when there was naught else todo. Are not both right?"

He clasped her to his breast; then, holding her from him a little, looked into her eyes steadily a moment. "God hath given thee a trueheart, and the true heart hath wisdom, " he answered. 

"You will not seek escape? Nor resist the Governor?" she asked eagerly. 

"Whither should I go? My place is here by you, by the Comtesse deMontgomery. One day it may be I shall return to France, and to ourcause--"

"If it be God's will. "

"If it be God's will. "

"Whatever comes, you will love me, Michel?"

"I will love you, whatever comes. "

"Listen. " She drew his head down. "I am no dragweight to thy life? Thouwouldst not do otherwise if there were no foolish Angele?"

He did not hesitate. "What is best is. I might do otherwise if therewere no Angele in my life to pilot my heart, but that were worse forme. "

"Thou art the best lover in all the world. "

"I hope to make a better husband. To-morrow is carmine-lettered in mycalendar, if thou sayst thou wilt still have me under the sword of theMedici. "

Her hand pressed her heart suddenly. "Under the sword, if it be God'swill, " she answered. Then, with a faint smile: "But no, I will notbelieve the Queen of England will send thee, one of her own Protestantfaith, to the Medici. "

"And thou wilt marry me?"

"When the Queen of England approves thee, " she answered, and buried herface in the hollow of his arm. 

An hour later Sir Hugh Pawlett came to the manor-house of Rozel withtwo-score men-at-arms. The Seigneur himself answered the Governor'sknocking, and showed himself in the doorway, with a dozen halberdiersbehind him. 

"I have come seeking Michel de la Foret, " said the Governor. 

"He is my guest. "

"I have the Queen's command to take him. "

"He is my cherished guest. "

"Must I force my way?"

"Is it the Queen's will that blood be shed?"

"The Queen's commands must be obeyed. "

"The Queen is a miracle of the world, God save her! What is the chargeagainst him?"

"Summon Michel de la Foret, 'gainst whom it lies. "

"He is my guest; ye shall have him only by force. " The Governor turnedto his men. "Force the passage and search the house, " he commanded. 

The company advanced with levelled pikes, but at a motion from theSeigneur his men fell back before them, and, making a lane, disclosedMichel de la Foret at the end of it. Michel had not approved ofLempriere's mummery of defence, but he understood from what good spiritit sprung, and how it flattered the Seigneur's vanity to make show ofresistance. 

The Governor greeted De la Foret with a sour smile, read to him theQueen's writ, and politely begged his company towards Mont OrgueilCastle. 

"I'll fetch other commands from her Majesty, or write me down a pedlarof St. Ouen's follies, " the Seigneur said from his doorway, as theGovernor and De la Foret bade him good-bye and took the road to theCastle. 

CHAPTER VI

Michel de la Foret was gone, a prisoner. From the dusk of the trees bythe little chapel of Rozel, Angele had watched his exit in charge of theGovernor's men. She had not sought to show her presence: she had seenhim--that was comfort to her heart; and she would not mar the memory ofthat last night's farewell by another before these strangers. She sawwith what quiet Michel bore his arrest, and she said to herself, as thelast halberdier vanished:

"If the Queen do but speak with him, if she but look upon his face andhear his voice, she must needs deal kindly by him. My Michel--ah, it isa face for all men to trust and all women--"

But she sighed and averted her head as though before prying eyes. 

The bell of Rozel Chapel broke gently on the evening air; the sound, softened by the leaves and mellowed by the wood of the great elm-trees, billowed away till it was lost in faint reverberation in the sea beneaththe cliffs of the Couperon, where a little craft was coming to anchor inthe dead water. 

At first the sound of the bell soothed her, softening the thought of thedanger to Michel. She moved with it towards the sea, the tones of hergrief chiming with it. Presently, as she went, a priest in cassock androbes and stole crossed the path in front of her, an acolyte before himswinging a censer, his voice chanting Latin verses from the servicefor the sick, in his hands the sacred elements of the sacrament forthe dying. The priest was fat and heavy, his voice was lazy, his eyesexpressionless, and his robes were dirty. The plaintive, peacefulsense which the sound of the vesper bell had thrown over Angele's sadreflections passed away, and the thought smote her that, were it not forsuch as this black-toothed priest, Michel would not now be on his way toEngland, a prisoner. To her this vesper bell was the symbol of tyrannyand hate. It was fighting, it was martyrdom, it was exile, it was theMedici. All that she had borne, all that her father had borne, thethought of the home lost, the mother dead before her time, the nameruined, the heritage dispossessed, the red war of the Camisards, therivulets of blood in the streets of Paris and of her loved Rouen, smoteupon her mind, and drove her to her knees in the forest glade, her handsupon her ears to shut out the sound of the bell. It came upon her thatthe bell had said "Peace! Peace!" to her mind when there should be nopeace; that it had said "Be patient!" when she should be up and doing;that it had whispered "Stay!" when she should tread the path her lovertrod, her feet following in his footsteps as his feet had trod in hers. 

She pressed her hands tight upon her ears and prayed with a passion anda fervour she had never known before. A revelation seemed to come uponher, and, for the first time, she was a Huguenot to the core. Hithertoshe had suffered for her religion because it was her mother's brokenlife, her father's faith, and because they had suffered, and herlover had suffered. Her mind had been convinced, her loyalty had beenunwavering, her words for the great cause had measured well with herdeeds. But new senses were suddenly born in her, new eyes were givento her mind, new powers for endurance to her soul. She saw now as themartyrs of Meaux had seen; a passionate faith descended on her as ithad descended on them; no longer only patient, she was fain for action. Tears rained from her eyes. Her heart burst itself in entreaty andconfession. 

"Thy light shall be my light, and Thy will my will, O Lord, " she criedat the last. "Teach me Thy way, create a right spirit within me. Giveme boldness without rashness, and hope without vain thinking. Bear up myarms, O Lord, and save me when falling. A poor Samaritan am I. Giveme the water that shall be a well of water springing up to everlastinglife, that I thirst not in the fever of doing. Give me the manna of lifeto eat that I faint not nor cry out in plague, pestilence, or famine. Give me Thy grace, O God, as Thou hast given it to Michel de la Foret, and guide my feet as I follow him in life and in death, for Christ'ssake. Amen. "

As she rose from her knees she heard the evening gun from the castleof Mont Orgueil, whither Michel was being borne by the Queen's men. Thevesper bell had stopped. Through the wood came the salt savour of thesea on the cool sunset air. She threw back her head and walked swiftlytowards it, her heart beating hard, her eyes shining with the lightof purpose, her step elastic with the vigour of youth and health. Aquarter-hour's walking brought her to the cliff of the Couperon. 

As she gazed out over the sea, however, a voice in the bay below caughther ear. She looked down. On the deck of the little craft which hadentered the harbour when the vesper bell was ringing stood a man whowaved a hand up towards her, then gave a peculiar call. She stared withamazement: it was Buonespoir the pirate. What did this mean? Had Godsent this man to her, by his presence to suggest what she should do inthis crisis in her life? For even as she ran down the shore towardshim, it came to her mind that Buonespoir should take her in his craft toEngland. 

What to do in England? Who could tell? She only knew that a voice calledher to England, to follow the footsteps of Michel de la Foret, whoeven this night would be setting forth in the Governor's brigantine forLondon. 

Buonespoir met her upon the shore, grinning like a boy. 

"God save you, lady!" he said. 

"What brings you hither, friend?" she asked. 

If he had said that a voice had called him hither as one called her toEngland, it had not sounded strange; for she was not thinking that thiswas one who superstitiously swore by the little finger of St. Peter, butonly that he was the man who had brought her Michel from France, who hadbeen a faithful friend to her and to her father. 

"What brings me hither?" Buonespoir laughed low in his chest. "Evento fetch to the Seigneur of Rozel, a friend of mine by every token ofremembrance, a dozen flagons of golden muscadella. "

To Angele no suggestion flashed that these flagons of muscadella hadcome from the cellar of the Seigneur of St. Ouen's, where they had beenreserved for a certain royal visit. Nothing was in her mind save the onethought-that she must follow Michel. 

"Will you take me to England?" she asked, putting a hand quickly on hisarm. 

He had been laughing hard, picturing to himself what Lempriere of Rozelwould say when he sniffed the flagon of St. Ouen's best wine, and for aninstant he did not take in the question; but he stared at her now as thelaugh slowly subsided through notes of abstraction and her words workedtheir way into his brain. 

"Will you take me, Buonespoir?" she urged. "Take you--?" he questioned. 

"To England. "

"And myself to Tyburn?"

"Nay, to the Queen. "

"'Tis the same thing. Head of Abel! Elizabeth hath heard of me. TheSeigneur of St. Ouen's and others have writ me down a pirate to her. Shewould not pardon the muscadella, " he added, with another laugh, lookingdown where the flagons lay. 

"She must pardon more than that, " exclaimed Angele, and hastily she toldhim of what had happened to Michel de la Foret, and why she would go. 

"Thy father, then?" he asked, scowling hard in his attempt to think itout. 

"He must go with me--I will seek him now. "

"It must be at once, i' faith, for how long, think you, can I stay hereunharmed? I was sighted off St. Ouen's shore a few hours agone. "

"To-night?" she asked. 

"By twelve, when we shall have the moon and the tide, " he answered. "Buthold!" he hastily added. "What, think you, could you and your father doalone in England? And with me it were worse than alone. These be darktimes, when strangers have spies at their heels, and all travellers aresuspect. "

"We will trust in God, " she answered. 

"Have you money?" he questioned--"for London, not for me, " he addedhastily. 

"Enough, " she replied. 

"The trust with the money is a weighty matter, " he added; "but theysuffice not. You must have 'fending. "

"There is no one, " she answered sadly, "no one save--"

"Save the Seigneur of Rozel!" Buonespoir finished the sentence. "Good. You to your father, and I to the Seigneur. If you can fetch yourfather by your pot-of-honey tongue, I'll fetch the great Lempriere withmuscadella. Is't a bargain?"

"In which I gain all, " she answered, and again touched his arm with herfinger-tips. 

"You shall be aboard here at ten, and I will join you on the stroke oftwelve, " he said, and gave a low whistle. 

At the signal three men sprang up like magic out of the bowels of theboat beneath them, and scurried over the side; three as ripe knaves asever cheated stocks and gallows, but simple knaves, unlike their master. Two of them had served with Francis Drake in that good ship of his lyingeven now not far from Elizabeth's palace at Greenwich. The third was arogue who had been banished from Jersey for a habitual drunkenness whichonly attacked him on land--at sea he was sacredly sober. His name wasJean Nicolle. The names of the other two were Herve Robin and Rouge leRiche, but their master called them by other names. 

"Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, " said Buonespoir in ceremony, andwaved a hand of homage between them and Angele. "Kiss dirt, and knowwhere duty lies. The lady's word on my ship is law till we anchor at theQueen's Stairs at Greenwich. So, Heaven help you, Shadrach, Meshach, andAbednego!" said Buonespoir. 

A wave of humour passed over Angele's grave face, for a stranger quartetnever sailed high seas together: one blind of an eye, one game of a leg, one bald as a bottle and bereft of two front teeth; but Buonespoir wassound of wind and limb, his small face with the big eyes lost in themasses of his red hair, and a body like Hercules. It flashed throughAngele's mind even as she answered the gurgling salutations of thetriumvirate that they had been got together for no gentle summer sailingin the Channel. Her conscience smote her that she should use suchchurls; but she gave it comfort by the thought that while serving herthey could do naught worse; and her cause was good. Yet they presentedso bizarre an aspect, their ugliness was so varied and particular, thatshe almost laughed. Buonespoir understood her thoughts, for with alook of mocking innocence in his great blue eyes he waved a hand againtowards the graceless trio, and said, "For deep-sea fishing. " Then hesolemnly winked at the three. 

A moment later Angele was speeding along the shore towards her home onthe farther hillside up the little glen; and within an hour Buonespoirrolled from the dusk of the trees by the manor-house of Rozel andknocked at the door. He carried on his head, as a fishwife carries atray of ormers, a basket full of flagons of muscadella; and he did notlower the basket when he was shown into the room where the Seigneur ofRozel was sitting before a trencher of spiced veal and a great pot ofale. Lempriere roared a hearty greeting to the pirate, for he was in asour humour because of the taking off of Michel de la Foret; and of allmen this pirate-fellow, who had quips and cranks, and had played trickson his cousin of St. Ouen's, was most welcome. 

"What's that on your teacup of a head?" he roared again as Buonespoirgrinned pleasure at the greeting. "Muscadella, " said Buonespoir, andlowered the basket to the table. 

Lempriere seized a flagon, drew it forth, looked closely at it, thenburst into laughter, and spluttered: "St. Ouen's muscadella, by the handof Rufus!"

Seizing Buonespoir by the shoulders, he forced him down upon a benchat the table, and pushed the trencher of spiced meat against his chest. "Eat, my noble lord of the sea and master of the cellar, " he gurgledout, and, tipping the flagon of muscadella, took a long draught. "God-a-mercy--but it has saved my life, " he gasped in satisfaction ashe lay back in his great chair, and put his feet on the bench whereonBuonespoir sat. 

They raised their flagons and toasted each other, and Lempriere burstforth into song, in the refrain of which Buonespoir joined boisterously:

 "King Rufus he did hunt the deer, With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly! It was the spring-time of the year, Hey ho, Dolly shut her eyes! King Rufus was a bully boy, He hunted all the day for joy, Sweet Dolly she was ever coy: And who would e'er be wise That looked in Dolly's eyes?

 "King Rufus he did have his day, With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly! So get ye forth where dun deer play-- Hey ho, Dolly comes again! The greenwood is the place for me, For that is where the dun deer be, 'Tis where my Dolly comes to me: And who would stay at home, That might with Dolly roam? Sing hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly!"

Lempriere, perspiring with the exertion, mopped his forehead, thenlapsed into a plaintive mood. 

"I've had naught but trouble of late, " he wheezed. "Trouble, trouble, trouble, like gnats on a filly's flank!" and in spluttering words, twicebracketed in muscadella, he told of Michel de la Foret's arrest, and ofhis purpose to go to England if he could get a boat to take him. 

"'Tis that same business brings me here, " said Buonespoir, and forthwithtold of his meeting with Angele and what was then agreed upon. 

"You to go to England!" cried Lempriere amazed. "They want you forTyburn there. "

"They want me for the gallows here, " said Buonespoir. Rolling a pieceof spiced meat in his hand, he stuffed it into his mouth and chewedtill the grease came out of his eyes, and took eagerly from a servant aflagon of malmsey and a dish of ormers. 

"Hush, chew thy tongue a minute!" said the Seigneur, suddenly startingand laying a finger beside his nose. "Hush!" he said again, and lookedinto the flicker of the candle by him with half-shut eyes. 

"May I have no rushes for a bed, and die like a rat in a moat, if Idon't get thy pardon too of the Queen, and bring thee back to Jersey, a thorn in the side of De Carteret for ever! He'll look upon theeassoilzied by the Queen, spitting fire in his rage, and no canary ormuscadella in his cellar. "

It came not to the mind of either that this expedition would be made atcost to themselves. They had not heard of Don Quixote, and their giftswere not imitative. They were of a day when men held their lives aslightly as many men hold their honour now; when championship was as thebreath of life to men's nostrils, and to adventure for what was worthhaving or doing in life the only road of reputation. 

Buonespoir was as much a champion in his way as Lempriere of Rozel. Theywere of like kidney, though so far apart in rank. Had Lempriere beenborn as low and as poor as Buonespoir, he would have been a pirate too, no doubt; and had Buonespoir been born as high as the Seigneur, he wouldhave carried himself with the same rough sense of honour, with as ripe avanity; have been as naive, as sincere, as true to the real heart ofman untaught in the dissimulation of modesty or reserve. When they shookhands across the trencher of spiced veal, it was as man shakes hand withman, not man with master. 

They were about to start upon their journey when there came a knockingat the door. On its being opened the bald and toothless Abednegostumbled in with the word that immediately after Angele and her fathercame aboard the Honeyflower some fifty halberdiers suddenly appearedupon the Couperon. They had at once set sail, and got away even beforethe sailors had reached the shore. As they had rounded the point, wherethey were hid from view, Abednego dropped overboard and swam ashore onthe rising tide, making his way to the manor to warn Buonespoir. On hisway hither, stealing through the trees, he had passed a half-score ofhalberdiers making for the manor, and he had seen others going towardsthe shore. 

Buonespoir looked to the priming of his pistols, and buckling his belttightly about him, turned to the Seigneur and said: "I will take mychances with Abednego. Where does she lie--the Honeyflower, Abednego?"

"Off the point called Verclut, " answered the little man, who hadtravelled with Francis Drake. 

"Good; we will make a run for it, flying dot-and-carry-one as we go. "

While they had been speaking the Seigneur had been thinking; and now, even as several figures appeared at a little distance in the trees, making towards the manor, he said, with a loud laugh:

"No. 'Tis the way of a fool to put his head between the door andthe jamb. 'Tis but a hundred yards to safety. Follow me--to thesea--Abednego last. This way, bullies!"

Without a word all three left the house and walked on in the orderindicated, as De Carteret's halberdiers ran forward threatening. 

"Stand!" shouted the sergeant of the halberdiers. "Stand, or we fire!"

But the three walked straight on unheeding. When the sergeant of themen-at-arms recognised the Seigneur, he ordered down the blunderbusses. 

"We come for Buonespoir the pirate, " said the sergeant. 

"Whose warrant?" said the Seigneur, fronting the halberdiers, Buonespoirand Abednego behind him. "The Seigneur of St. Ouen's, " was the reply. 

"My compliments to the Seigneur of St. Ouen's, and tell him thatBuonespoir is my guest, " he bellowed, and strode on, the halberdiersfollowing. Suddenly the Seigneur swerved towards the chapel andquickened his footsteps, the others but a step behind. The sergeant ofthe halberdiers was in a quandary. He longed to shoot, but dared not, and while he was making up his mind what to do, the Seigneur had reachedthe chapel door. Opening it, he quickly pushed Buonespoir and Abednegoinside, whispering to them, then slammed the door and put his backagainst it. 

There was another moment's hesitation on the sergeant's part, then adoor at the other end of the chapel was heard to open and shut, and theSeigneur laughed loudly. The halberdiers ran round the chapel. Therestood Buonespoir and Abednego in a narrow roadway, motionless andunconcerned. The halberdiers rushed forward. 

"Perquage! Perquage! Perquage!" shouted Buonespoir, and the brightmoonlight showed him grinning. For an instant there was deadlystillness, in which the approaching footsteps of the Seigneur soundedloud. 

"Perquage!" Buonespoir repeated. 

"Perquage! Fall back!" said the Seigneur, and waved off the pikes of thehalberdiers. "He has sanctuary to the sea. "

This narrow road in which the pirates stood was the last of three in theIsle of Jersey running from churches to the sea, in which a criminal wassafe from arrest by virtue of an old statute. The other perquages hadbeen taken away; but this one of Rozel remained, a concession made byHenry VIII to the father of this Raoul Lempriere. The privilege had beenused but once in the present Seigneur's day, because the criminal mustbe put upon the road from the chapel by the Seigneur himself, and he hadused his privilege modestly. 

No man in Jersey but knew the sacredness of this perquage, though itwas ten years since it had been used; and no man, not even the Governorhimself, dare lift his hand to one upon that road. 

So it was that Buonespoir and Abednego, two fugitives from justice, walked quietly to the sea down the perquage, halberdiers, balked oftheir prey, prowling on their steps and cursing the Seigneur of Rozelfor his gift of sanctuary: for the Seigneur of St. Ouen's and the RoyalCourt had promised each halberdier three shillings and all the ale hecould drink at a sitting, if Buonespoir was brought in alive or dead. 

In peace and safety the three boarded the Honeyflower off the pointcalled Verclut, and set sail for England, just seven hours after Michelde la Foret had gone his way upon the Channel, a prisoner. 

CHAPTER VII

A fortnight later, of a Sunday morning, the Lord Chamberlain of Englandwas disturbed out of his usual equanimity. As he was treading the rushesin the presence-chamber of the Royal Palace at Greenwich, his eye busyin inspection--for the Queen would soon pass on her way to chapel--hishead nodding right and left to archbishop, bishop, councillors of state, courtiers, and officers of the crown, he heard a rude noise at the doorleading into the ante-chapel, where the Queen received petitions fromthe people. Hurrying thither in shocked anxiety, he found a curledgentleman of the guard, resplendent in red velvet and gold chains, inpeevish argument with a boisterous Seigneur of a bronzed good-humouredface, who urged his entrance to the presence-chamber. 

The Lord Chamberlain swept down upon the pair like a flamingo with wingsoutspread. "God's death, what means this turmoil? Her Majesty comeshither!" he cried, and scowled upon the intruder, who now stepped backa little, treading on the toes of a huge sailor with a small head andbushy red hair and beard. 

"Because her Majesty comes I come also, " the Seigneur interposedgrandly. 

"What is your name and quality?"

"Yours first, and I shall know how to answer. "

"I am the Lord Chamberlain of England. "

"And I, my lord, am Lempriere, Seigneur of Rozel--and butler to theQueen. "

"Where is Rozel?" asked my Lord Chamberlain. 

The face of the Seigneur suddenly flushed, his mouth swelled, and thenburst. 

"Where is Rozel!" he cried in a voice of rage. "Where is Rozel! Haveyou heard of Hugh Pawlett, " he asked, with a huge contempt--"of GovernorHugh Pawlett?" The Lord Chamberlain nodded. "Then ask his Excellencywhen next you see him, Where is Rozel? But take good counsel and keepyour ignorance from the Queen, " he added. "She has no love for stupids. "

"You say you are butler to the Queen? Whence came your commission?" saidthe Lord Chamberlain, smiling now; for Lempriere's words and wayswere of some simple world where odd folk lived, and his boyish vanitydisarmed anger. 

"By royal warrant and heritage. And of all of the Jersey Isle, I onlymay have dove-totes, which is the everlasting thorn in the side of DeCarteret of St. Ouen's. Now will you let me in, my lord?" he said, allin a breath. 

At a stir behind him the Lord Chamberlain turned, and with a horrifiedexclamation hurried away, for the procession from the Queen's apartmentshad already entered the presence-chamber: gentlemen, barons, earls, knights of the garter, in brave attire, with bare heads and sumptuouscalves. The Lord Chamberlain had scarce got to his place when theChancellor, bearing the seals in a red silk purse, entered, flanked bytwo gorgeous folk with the royal sceptre and the sword of state in a redscabbard, all flourished with fleur-de-lis. Moving in and out among themall was the Queen's fool, who jested and shook his bells under the nosesof the highest. 

It was an event of which the Seigneur of Rozel told to his dying day:that he entered the presence-chamber of the Royal Palace of Greenwichat the same instant as the Queen--"Rozel at one end, Elizabeth at theother, and all the world at gaze, " he was wont to say with loud guffaws. But what he spoke of afterwards with preposterous ease and pride wasneither pride nor ease at the moment; for the Queen's eyes fell on himas he shoved past the gentlemen who kept the door. For an instant shestood still, regarding him intently, then turned quickly to the LordChamberlain in inquiry, and with sharp reproof too in her look. The LordChamberlain fell on his knee and with low uncertain voice explained theincident. 

Elizabeth again cast her eyes towards Lempriere, and the Court, following her example, scrutinised the Seigneur in varied styles ofinsolence or curiosity. Lempriere drew himself up with a slashingattempt at composure, but ended by flaming from head to foot, his faceshining like a cock's comb, the perspiration standing out like beadsupon his forehead, his eyes gone blind with confusion. That was but fora moment, however, and then, Elizabeth's look being slowly withdrawnfrom him, a curious smile came to her lips, and she said to the LordChamberlain: "Let the gentleman remain. "

The Queen's fool tripped forward and tapped the Lord Chamberlain on theshoulder. "Let the gentleman remain, gossip, and see you that remaininghe goeth not like a fly with his feet in the porridge. " With a flippantstep before the Seigneur, he shook his bells at him. "Thou shalt stay, Nuncio, and staying speak the truth. So doing you shall be as noted asa comet with three tails. You shall prove that man was made in God'simage. So lift thy head and sneeze--sneezing is the fashion here; butsee that thou sneeze not thy head off as they do in Tartary. 'Tis worthremembrance. "

Rozel's self-importance and pride had returned. The blood came backto his heart, and he threw out his chest grandly; he even turned toBuonespoir, whose great figure might be seen beyond the door, and winkedat him. For a moment he had time to note the doings of the Queen andher courtiers with wide-eyed curiosity. He saw the Earl of Leicester, exquisite, haughty, gallant, fall upon his knee, and Elizabeth slowlypull off her glove and with a none too gracious look give him her handto kiss, the only favour of the kind granted that day. He saw Cecil, herMinister, introduce a foreign noble, who presented his letters. Heheard the Queen speak in a half-dozen different languages, to people ofvarious lands, and he was smitten with amazement. 

But as Elizabeth came slowly down the hall, her white silk gown frontedwith great pearls flashing back the light, a marchioness bearing thetrain, the crown on her head glittering as she turned from right toleft, her wonderful collar of jewels sparkling on her uncovered bosom, suddenly the mantle of black, silver-shotted silk upon her shouldersbecame to Lempriere's heated senses a judge's robe, and Elizabeth theaugust judge of the world. His eyes blinded again, for it was as if shewas bearing down upon him. Certainly she was looking at him now, scarceheeding the courtiers who fell to their knees on either side as she cameon. The red doublets of the fifty Gentlemen Pensioners--all men ofnoble families proud to do this humble yet distinguished service--withbattle-axes, on either side of her, seemed to Lempriere on the instantlike an army with banners threatening him. From the ante-chapel behindhim came the cry of the faithful subjects who, as the gentleman-at-armsfell back from the doorway, had but just caught a glimpse of herMajesty--"Long live Elizabeth!"

It seemed to Lempriere that the Gentlemen Pensioners must beat him downas they passed, yet he stood riveted to the spot; and indeed it was truethat he was almost in the path of her Majesty. He was aware that twogentlemen touched him on the shoulder and bade him retire; but the Queenmotioned to them to desist. So, with the eyes of the whole court onhim again, and Elizabeth's calm curious gaze fixed, as it were, on hisforehead, he stood still till the flaming Gentlemen Pensioners werewithin a few feet of him, and the battle-axes were almost over his head. 

The great braggart was no better now than a wisp of grass in the wind, and it was more than homage that bent him to his knees as the Queenlooked him full in the eyes. There was a moment's absolute silence, andthen she said, with cold condescension:

"By what privilege do you seek our presence?"

"I am Raoul Lempriere, Seigneur of Rozel, your high Majesty, " said thechoking voice of the Jerseyman. The Queen raised her eyebrows. "The manseems French. You come from France?"

Lempriere flushed to his hair--the Queen did not know him, then! "FromJersey Isle, your sacred Majesty. "

"Jersey Isle is dear to us. And what is your warrant here?"

"I am butler to your Majesty, by your gracious Majesty's patent, andI alone may have dove-cotes in the isle; and I only may have theperquage-on your Majesty's patent. It is not even held by De Carteret ofSt. Ouen's. "

The Queen smiled as she had not smiled since she entered thepresence-chamber. "God preserve us, " she said--"that I should not haverecognised you! It is, of course, our faithful Lempriere of Rozel. "

The blood came back to the Seigneur's heart, but he did not dare look upyet, and he did not see that Elizabeth was in rare mirth at his words;and though she had no ken or memory of him, she read his nature and wasmindful to humour him. Beckoning Leicester to her side, she said a fewwords in an undertone, to which he replied with a smile more sour thansweet. 

"Rise, Monsieur of Rozel, " she said. 

The Seigneur stood up, and met her gaze faintly. "And so, proudSeigneur, you must needs flout e'en our Lord Chamberlain, in the name ofour butler with three dove-cotes and the perquage. In sooth thy officemust not be set at naught lightly--not when it is flanked by theperquage. By my father's doublet, but that frieze jerkin is well cut;it suits thy figure well--I would that my Lord Leicester here had such atailor. But this perquage--I doubt not there are those here at Court whoare most ignorant of its force and moment. My Lord Chamberlain, my LordLeicester, Cecil here--confusion sits in their faces. The perquage, which my father's patent approved, has served us well, I doubt not, isa comfort to our realm and a dignity befitting the wearer of that friezejerkin. Speak to their better understanding, Monsieur of Rozel. "

"Speak, Nuncio, and you shall have comforts, and be given in marriage, multiple or singular, even as I, " said the fool, and touched him on thebreast with his bells. 

Lempriere had recovered his heart, and now was set full sail in thecourse he had charted for himself in Jersey. In large words and largermanner he explained most innocently the sacred privilege of perquage. "And how often have you used the right, friend?" asked Elizabeth. 

"But once in ten years, your noble Majesty. "

"When last?"

"But yesterday a week, your universal Majesty. " Elizabeth raised hereyebrows. "Who was the criminal, what the occasion?"

"The criminal was one Buonespoir, the occasion our coming hither to waitupon the Queen of England and our Lady of Normandy, for such is yourwell-born Majesty to your loyal Jersiais. " And thereupon he plungedinto an impeachment of De Carteret of St. Ouen's, and stumbled througha blunt broken story of the wrongs and the sorrows of Michel and Angeleand the doings of Buonespoir in their behalf. 

Elizabeth frowned and interrupted him. "I have heard of this Buonespoir, Monsieur, through others than the Seigneur of St. Ouen's. He is anunlikely squire of dames. There's a hill in my kingdom has long bidedhis coming. Where waits the rascal now?"

"In the ante-chapel, your Majesty. "

"By the rood!" said Elizabeth in sudden amazement. "In my ante-chapel, forsooth!"

She looked beyond the doorway and saw the great red-topped figure ofBuonespoir, his good-natured, fearless fare, his shock of hair, hisclear blue eye--he was not thirty feet away. 

"He comes to crave pardon for his rank offences, your benignantMajesty, " said Lempriere. 

The humour of the thing rushed upon the Queen. Never before were twosuch naive folk at court. There was not a hair of duplicity in the headsof the two, and she judged them well in her mind. 

"I will see you stand together--you and your henchman, " she said toRozel, and moved on to the antechapel, the Court following. Standingstill just inside the doorway, she motioned Buonespoir to come near. The pirate, unconfused, undismayed, with his wide blue asking eyes, came forward and dropped upon his knees. Elizabeth motioned Lempriere tostand a little apart. 

Thereupon she set a few questions to Buonespoir, whose replies, truthfully given, showed that he had no real estimate of his crimes, andwas indifferent to what might be their penalties. He had no moral senseon the one hand, on the other, no fear. 

Suddenly she turned to Lempriere again. "You came, then, to speak forthis Michel de la Foret, the exile--?"

"And for the demoiselle Angele Aubert, who loves him, your Majesty. "

"I sent for this gentleman exile a fortnight ago--" She turned towardsLeicester inquiringly. 

"I have the papers here, your Majesty, " said Leicester, and gave apacket over. 

"And where have you De la Foret?" said Elizabeth. "In durance, yourMajesty. "

"When came he hither?"

"Three days gone, " answered Leicester, a little gloomily, for there wasacerbity in Elizabeth's voice. Elizabeth seemed about to speak, thendropped her eyes upon the papers, and glanced hastily at their contents. 

"You will have this Michel de la Foret brought to my presence as fastas horse can bring him, my Lord, " she said to Leicester. "This rascalof the sea--Buonespoir--you will have safe bestowed till I recallhis existence again, " she said to a captain of men-at-arms; "andyou, Monsieur of Rozel, since you are my butler, will get you to mydining-room, and do your duty--the office is not all perquisites, "she added smoothly. She was about to move on, when a thought seemed tostrike her, and she added, "This Mademoiselle and her father whom youbrought hither-where are they?"

"They are even within the palace grounds, your imperial Majesty, "answered Lempriere. 

"You will summon them when I bid you, " she said to the Seigneur; "andyou shall see that they have comforts and housing as befits theirstation, " she added to the Lord Chamberlain. 

So did Elizabeth, out of a whimsical humour, set the highest in the landto attend upon unknown, unconsidered exiles. 

CHAPTER VIII

Five minutes later, Lempriere of Rozel, as butler to the Queen, saw asight of which he told to his dying day. When, after varied troubleshereafter set down, he went back to Jersey, he made a speech beforethe Royal Court, in which he told what chanced while Elizabeth was atchapel. 

"There stood I, butler to the Queen, " he said, with a large gesture, "but what knew I of butler's duties at Greenwich Palace! Her Majesty hadgiven me an office where all the work was done for me. Odds life, butwhen I saw the Gentleman of the Rod and his fellow get down on theirknees to lay the cloth upon the table, as though it was an altar atJerusalem, I thought it time to say my prayers. There was naught butkneeling and retiring. Now it was the salt-cellar, the plate, and thebread; then it was a Duke's Daughter--a noble soul as ever lived--witha tasting-knife, as beautiful as a rose; then another lady enters whoglares at me, and gets to her knees as does the other. Three times upand down, and then one rubs the plate with bread and salt, as solemn asSt. Ouen's when he says prayers in the Royal Court. Gentles, that was aday for Jersey. For there stood I as master of all, the Queen's butler, and the greatest ladies of the land doing my will--though it was allPersian mystery to me, save when the kettle-drums began to beat and thetrumpet to blow, and in walk bareheaded the Yeomen of the Guard, allscarlet, with a golden rose on their backs, bringing in a course oftwenty-four gold dishes; and I, as Queen's butler, receiving them. 

"Then it was I opened my mouth amazed at the endless dishes filledwith niceties of earth, and the Duke's Daughter pops onto my tonguea mouthful of the first dish brought, and then does the same to everyYeoman of the Guard that carried a dish--that her notorious Majestybe safe against the hand of poisoners. There was I, fed by a Duke'sDaughter; and thus was Jersey honoured; and the Duke's Daughter whispersto me, as a dozen other unmarried ladies enter, 'The Queen liked notthe cut of your frieze jerkin better than do I, Seigneur. ' With that shejoins the others, and they all kneel down and rise up again, and liftingthe meat from the table, bear it into the Queen's private chamber. 

"When they return, and the Yeomen of the Guard go forth, I am left alonewith these ladies, and there stand with twelve pair of eyes upon me, little knowing what to do. There was laughter in the faces of some, andlooks less taking in the eyes of others; for my Lord Leicester was tohave done the duty I was set to do that day, and he the greatest gallantof the kingdom, as all the world knows. What they said among themselvesI know not, but I heard Leicester's name, and I guessed that they weremostly in the pay of his soft words. But the Duke's Daughter was on myside, as was proved betimes when Leicester made trouble for us who wentfrom Jersey to plead the cause of injured folk. Of the Earl's enmityto me--a foolish spite of a great nobleman against a Norman-Jerseygentleman--and of how it injured others for the moment, you all know;but we had him by the heels before the end of it, great earl andfavourite as he was. "

In the same speech Lempriere told of his audience with the Queen, evenas she sat at dinner, and of what she said to him; but since his wordsgive but a partial picture of events, the relation must not be his. 

When the Queen returned from chapel to her apartments, Lempriere wascalled by an attendant, and he stood behind the Queen's chair until shesummoned him to face her. Then, having finished her meal, and dipped herfingers in a bowl of rose-water, she took up the papers Leicester hadgiven her--the Duke's Daughter had read them aloud as she ate--and said:

"Now, my good Seigneur of Rozel, answer me these few questions: First, what concern is it of yours whether this Michel de la Foret be sent backto France, or die here in England?"

"I helped to save his life at sea--one good turn deserves another, yourhigh-born Majesty. "

The Queen looked sharply at him, then burst out laughing. 

"God's life, but here's a bull making epigrams!" she said. Then herhumour changed. "See you, my butler of Rozel, you shall speak the truth, or I'll have you where that jerkin will fit you not so well a monthhence. Plain answers I will have to plain questions, or De Carteret ofSt. Ouen's shall have his will of you and your precious pirate. So bearyourself as you would save your head and your honours. "

Lempriere of Rozel never had a better moment than when he met the Queenof England's threats with faultless intrepidity. "I am concerned aboutmy head, but more about my honours, and most about my honour, " hereplied. "My head is my own, my honours are my family's, for which Iwould give my head when needed; and my honour defends both until bothare naught--and all are in the service of my Queen. "

Smiling, Elizabeth suddenly leaned forward, and, with a glance ofsatisfaction towards the Duke's Daughter, who was present, said:

"I had not thought to find so much logic behind your rampant skull, " shesaid. "You've spoken well, Rozel, and you shall speak by the book to theend, if you will save your friends. What concern is it of yours whetherMichel de la Foret live or die?"

"It is a concern of one whom I've sworn to befriend, and that is myconcern, your ineffable Majesty. " "Who is the friend?"

"Mademoiselle Aubert. "

"The betrothed of this Michel de la Foret?"

"Even so, your exalted Majesty. But I made sure De la Foret was deadwhen I asked her to be my wife. "

"Lord, Lord, Lord, hear this vast infant, this hulking baby of aSeigneur, this primeval innocence! Listen to him, cousin, " said theQueen, turning again to the Duke's Daughter. "Was ever the like of it inany kingdom of this earth? He chooses a penniless exile--he, a butlerto the Queen, with three dove-cotes and the perquage--and a Huguenotwithal. He is refused; then comes the absent lover over sea, toshipwreck; and our Seigneur rescues him, 'fends him; and when yon masterexile is in peril, defies his Queen's commands"--she tapped the paperslying beside her on the table--"then comes to England with the lady toplead the case before his outraged sovereign, with an outlawed buccaneerfor comrade and lieutenant. There is the case, is't not?"

"I swore to be her friend, " answered Lempriere stubbornly, "and I havedone according to my word. "

"There's not another nobleman in my kingdom who would not have thoughttwice about the matter, with the lady aboard his ship on the highseas-'tis a miraculous chivalry, cousin, " she added to the Duke'sDaughter, who bowed, settled herself again on her velvet cushion, andlooked out of the corner of her eyes at Lempriere. 

"You opposed Sir Hugh Pawlett's officers who went to arrest this De laForet, " continued Elizabeth. "Call you that serving your Queen? Pawletthad our commands. "

"I opposed them but in form, that the matter might the more surely bebrought to your Majesty's knowledge. "

"It might easily have brought you to the Tower, man. "

"I had faith that your Majesty would do right in this, as in all else. So I came hither to tell the whole story to your judicial Majesty. "

"Our thanks for your certificate of character, " said the Queen, withamused irony. "What is your wish? Make your words few and plain. "

"I desire before all that Michel de la Foret shall not be returned tothe Medici, most radiant Majesty. "

"That's plain. But there are weighty matters 'twixt France and England, and De la Foret may turn the scale one way or another. What follows, beggar of Rozel?"

"That Mademoiselle Aubert and her father may live without let orhindrance in Jersey. "

"That you may eat sour grapes ad eternam? Next?"

"That Buonespoir be pardoned all offences and let live in Jersey onpledge that he sin no more, not even to raid St. Ouen's cellars of themuscadella reserved for your generous Majesty. "

There was such humour in Lempriere's look as he spoke of the muscadellathat the Queen questioned him closely upon Buonespoir's raid; and soinfectious was his mirth, as he told the tale, that Elizabeth, thoughshe stamped her foot in assumed impatience, smiled also. 

"You shall have your Buonespoir, Seigneur, " she said; "but for hisfuture you shall answer as well as he. "

"For what he does in Jersey Isle, your commiserate Majesty?"

"For crime elsewhere, if he be caught, he shall march to Tyburn, friend, " she answered. Then she hurriedly added: "Straightway go andbring Mademoiselle and her father hither. Orders are given for theirdisposal. And to-morrow at this hour you shall wait upon me in theircompany. I thank you for your services as butler this day, Monsieur ofRozel. You do your office rarely. "

As the Seigneur left Elizabeth's apartments, he met the Earl ofLeicester hurrying thither, preceded by the Queen's messenger. Leicesterstopped and said, with a slow malicious smile: "Farming is good, then--you have fine crops this year on your holding?"

The point escaped Lempriere at first, for the favourite's look was allinnocence, and he replied: "You are mistook, my lord. You will rememberI was in the presence-chamber an hour ago, my lord. I am Lempriere, Seigneur of Rozel, butler to her Majesty. "

"But are you, then? I thought you were a farmer and raised cabbages. "Smiling, Leicester passed on. 

For a moment the Seigneur stood pondering the Earl's words and angrilywondering at his obtuseness. Then suddenly he knew he had been mocked, and he turned and ran after his enemy; but Leicester had vanished intothe Queen's apartments. 

The Queen's fool was standing near, seemingly engaged in the lightoccupation of catching imaginary flies, buzzing with his motions. AsLeicester disappeared he looked from under his arm at Lempriere. "If abird will not stop for the salt to its tail, then the salt is damned, Nuncio; and you must cry David! and get thee to the quarry. "

Lempriere stared at him swelling with rage; but the quaint smiling ofthe fool conquered him, and instead of turning on his heel, he spreadhimself like a Colossus and looked down in grandeur. "And wherefore cryDavid! and get quarrying?" he asked. "Come, what sense is there in thywords, when I am wroth with yonder nobleman?"

"Oh, Nuncio, Nuncio, thou art a child of innocence and without history. The salt held not the bird for the net of thy anger, Nuncio; so it ismeet that other ways be found. David the ancient put a stone in a slingand Goliath laid him down like an egg in a nest--therefore, Nuncio, getthee to the quarry. Obligato, which is to say Leicester yonder, hath notail--the devil cut it off and wears it himself. So let salt be damned, and go sling thy stone!"

Lempriere was good-humoured again. He fumbled in his purse and broughtforth a gold-piece. "Fool, thou hast spoken like a man born sensible andinfinite. I understand thee like a book. Thou hast not folly and thoushalt not be answered as if thou wast a fool. But in terms of gold shaltthou have reply. " He put the gold-piece in the fool's hand and slappedhim on the shoulder. 

"Why now, Nuncio, " answered the other, "it is clear that there is afool at Court, for is it not written that a fool and his money are soonparted? And this gold-piece is still hot with running 'tween thee andme. "

Lempriere roared. "Why, then, for thy hit thou shalt have anothergold-piece, gossip. But see"--his voice lowered--"know you where is myfriend, Buonespoir, the pirate? Know you where he is in durance?"

"As I know marrow in a bone I know where he hides, Nuncio, so come withme, " answered the fool. 

"If De Carteret had but thy sense, we could live at peace in Jersey, "rejoined Lempriere, and strode ponderously after the light-footed foolwho capered forth singing:

 "Come hither, O come hither, There's a bride upon her bed; They have strewn her o'er with roses, There are roses 'neath her head: Life is love and tears and laughter, But the laughter it is dead Sing the way to the Valley, to the Valley! Hey, but the roses they are red!"

CHAPTER IX

The next day at noon, as her Majesty had advised the Seigneur, De laForet was ushered into the presence. The Queen's eye quickened as shesaw him, and she remarked with secret pleasure the figure and bearingof this young captain of the Huguenots. She loved physical grace andprowess with a full heart. The day had almost passed when she wouldmeasure all men against Leicester in his favour; and he, knowing thisclearly now, saw with haughty anxiety the gradual passing of his power, and clutched futilely at the vanishing substance. Thus it was thathe now spent his strength in getting his way with the Queen in littlethings. She had been so long used to take his counsel--in some part wiseand skilful--that when she at length did without it, or followed her ownmind, it became a fever with him to let no chance pass for serving hisown will by persuading her out of hers. This was why he had spent anhour the day before in sadly yet vaguely reproaching her for the slightshe put upon him in the presence-chamber by her frown; and anotherin urging her to come to terms with Catherine de Medici in this smallaffair--since the Frenchwoman had set her revengeful heart upon it--thatlarger matters might be settled to the gain of England. It was not somuch that he had reason to destroy De la Foret, as that he saw that theQueen was disposed to deal friendly by him and protect him. He didnot see the danger of rousing in the Queen the same unreasoningtenaciousness of will upon just such lesser things as might well be leftto her advisers. In spite of which he almost succeeded, this very day, in regaining, for a time at least, the ground he had lost with her. Hehad never been so adroit, so brilliant, so witty, so insinuating; andhe left her with the feeling that if he had his way concerning Dela Foret--a mere stubborn whim, with no fair reason behind it--hisinfluence would be again securely set. The sense of crisis was on him. 

On Michel de la Foret entering the presence the Queen's attention hadbecome riveted. She felt in him a spirit of mastery, yet of unselfishpurpose. Here was one, she thought, who might well be in her household, or leading a regiment of her troops. The clear fresh face, curling hair, direct look, quiet energy, and air of nobility--this sort of man couldonly be begotten of a great cause; he were not possible in idle orprosperous times. 

Elizabeth looked him up and down, then affected surprise. "Monsieur dela Foret, " she said, "I do not recognise you in this attire"--glancingtowards his dress. 

De la Foret bowed, and Elizabeth continued, looking at a paper in herhand: "You landed on our shores of Jersey in the robes of a priest ofFrance. The passport for a priest of France was found upon yourperson when our officers in Jersey made search of you. Which isyourself--Michel de la Foret, soldier, or a priest of France?"

De la Foret replied gravely that he was a soldier, and that the priestlydress had been but a disguise. 

"In which papist attire, methinks, Michel de la Foret, soldier andHuguenot, must have been ill at ease--the eagle with the vulture's wing. What say you, Monsieur?"

"That vulture's wing hath carried me to a safe dove-cote, your graciousMajesty, " he answered, with a low obeisance. 

"I'm none so sure of that, Monsieur, " was Elizabeth's answer, and sheglanced quizzically at Leicester, who made a gesture of annoyance. "Our cousin France makes you to us a dark intriguer and conspirator, adangerous weed in our good garden of England, a 'troublous, treacherousviolence'--such are you called, Monsieur. "

"I am in your high Majesty's power, " he answered, "to do with me as itseemeth best. If your Majesty wills it that I be returned to France, I pray you set me upon its coast as I came from it, a fugitive. Thencewill I try to find my way to the army and the poor stricken people ofwhom I was. I pray for that only, and not to be given to the red hand ofthe Medici. "

"Red hand--by my faith, but you are bold, Monsieur!"

Leicester tapped his foot upon the floor impatiently, then caught theQueen's eye, and gave her a meaning look. 

De la Foret saw the look and knew his enemy, but he did not quail. "Boldonly by your high Majesty's faith, indeed, " he answered the Queen, withharmless guile. 

Elizabeth smiled. She loved such flattering speech from a strong man. It touched a chord in her deeper than that under Leicester's finger. Leicester's impatience only made her more self-willed on the instant. 

"You speak with the trumpet note, Monsieur, " she said to De la Foret. "We will prove you. You shall have a company in my Lord Leicester's armyhere, and we will send you upon some service worthy of your fame. "

"I crave your Majesty's pardon, but I cannot do it, " was De la Foret'sinstant reply. "I have sworn that I will lift my sword in one causeonly, and to that I must stand. And more--the widow of my dead chief, Gabriel de Montgomery, is set down in this land unsheltered and alone. I have sworn to one who loves her, and for my dead chief's sake, thatI will serve her and be near her until better days be come and she mayreturn in quietness to France. In exile we few stricken folk must standtogether, your august Majesty. "

Elizabeth's eye flashed up. She was impatient of refusal of her favour. She was also a woman, and that De la Foret should flaunt his devotionto another woman was little to her liking. The woman in her, which hadnever been blessed with a noble love, was roused. The sourness of achildless, uncompanionable life was stronger for the moment than herstrong mind and sense. 

"Monsieur has sworn this, and Monsieur has sworn that, " she saidpetulantly--"and to one who loveth a lady, and for a cause--tut, tut, tut!--"

Suddenly a kind of intriguing laugh leaped into her eye, and she turnedto Leicester and whispered in his ear. Leicester frowned, then smiled, and glanced up and down De la Foret's figure impertinently. 

"See, Monsieur de la Foret, " she added; "since you will not fight, youshall preach. A priest you came into my kingdom, and a priest you shallremain; but you shall preach good English doctrine and no Popish folly. "

De la Foret started, then composed himself, and before he had timeto reply, Elizabeth continued: "Partly for your own sake am I thusgracious; for as a preacher of the Word I have not need to give youup, according to agreement with our brother of France. As a rebel andconspirator I were bound to do so, unless you were an officer of myarmy. The Seigneur of Rozel has spoken for you, and the Comtesse deMontgomery has written a pleading letter. Also I have from anothersource a tearful prayer--the ink is scarce dry upon it--which has beenof service to you. But I myself have chosen this way of escape foryou. Prove yourself worthy, and all may be well--but prove yourselfyou shall. You have prepared your own brine, Monsieur; in it you shallpickle. "

She smiled a sour smile, for she was piqued, and added: "Do you think Iwill have you here squiring of distressed dames, save as a priest? Youshall hence to Madame of Montgomery as her faithful chaplain, once Ihave heard you preach and know your doctrine. "

Leicester almost laughed outright in the young man's face now, for hehad no thought that De la Foret would accept, and refusal meant theexile's doom. 

It seemed fantastic that this noble gentleman, this very type of theperfect soldier, with the brown face of a picaroon and an athleticvalour of body, should become a preacher even in necessity. 

Elizabeth, seeing De la Foret's dumb amazement and anxiety, spokeup sharply: "Do this, or get you hence to the Medici, and Madame ofMontgomery shall mourn her protector, and Mademoiselle your mistress ofthe vermilion cheek, shall have one lover the less; which, methinks, ourSeigneur of Rozel would thank me for. "

De la Foret started, his lips pressed firmly together in effort ofrestraint. There seemed little the Queen did not know concerning him;and reference to Angele roused him to sharp solicitude. 

"Well, well?" asked Elizabeth impatiently, then made a motion toLeicester, and he, going to the door, bade some one to enter. 

There stepped inside the Seigneur of Rozel, who made a lumberingobeisance, then got to his knees before the Queen. 

"You have brought the lady safely--with her father?" she asked. 

Lempriere, puzzled, looked inquiringly at the Queen, then replied: "Bothare safe without, your infinite Majesty. "

De la Foret's face grew pale. He knew now for the first time that Angeleand her father were in England, and he looked Lempriere suspiciously inthe eyes; but the swaggering Seigneur met his look frankly, and bowedwith ponderous and genial gravity. 

Now De la Foret spoke. "Your high Majesty, " said he, "if I may askMademoiselle Aubert one question in your presence--"

"Your answer now; the lady in due season, " interposed the Queen. 

"She was betrothed to a soldier, she may resent a priest, " said De laForet, with a touch of humour, for he saw the better way was to take thematter with some outward ease. 

Elizabeth smiled. "It is the custom of her sex to have a fondness forboth, " she answered, with an acid smile. "But your answer?"

De la Foret's face became exceeding grave. Bowing his head, he said: "Mysword has spoken freely for the Cause; God forbid that my tongue shouldnot speak also. I will do your Majesty's behest. "

The jesting word that was upon the royal lips came not forth, for Dela Foret's face was that of a man who had determined a great thing, and Elizabeth was one who had a heart for high deeds. "The man is braveindeed, " she said under her breath, and, turning to the dumfoundedSeigneur, bade him bring in Mademoiselle Aubert. 

A moment later Angele entered, came a few steps forward, made obeisance, and stood still. She showed no trepidation, but looked before hersteadily. She knew not what was to be required of her, she was astranger in a strange land; but persecution and exile had gone far tostrengthen her spirit and greaten her composure. 

Elizabeth gazed at the girl coldly and critically. To women she was notover-amiable; but as she looked at the young Huguenot maid, of thiscalm bearing, warm of colour, clear of eye, and purposeful of face, something kindled in her. Most like it was that love for a cause, which wasmore to be encouraged by her than any woman's love for a man, which asshe grew older inspired her with aversion, as talk of marriage broughtcynical allusions to her lips. 

"I have your letter and its protests and its pleadings. There were finewords and adjurations--are you so religious, then?" she asked brusquely. 

"I am a Huguenot, your noble Majesty, " answered the girl, as though thatanswered all. 

"How is it, then, you are betrothed to a roistering soldier?" asked theQueen. 

"Some must pray for Christ's sake, and some must fight, your mostchristian Majesty, " answered the girl. "Some must do both, " rejoined theQueen, in a kinder voice, for the pure spirit of the girl worked uponher. "I am told that Monsieur de la Foret fights fairly. If he can prayas well, methinks he shall have safety in our kingdom, and ye shall allhave peace. On Trinity Sunday you shall preach in my chapel, Monsieur dela Foret, and thereafter you shall know your fate. "

She rose. "My Lord, " she said to Leicester, on whose face gloom hadsettled, "you will tell the Lord Chamberlain that Monsieur de la Foret'sdurance must be made comfortable in the west tower of my palace tillchapel-going of Trinity Day. I will send him for his comfort andinstruction some sermons of Latimer. "

She stepped down from the dais. "You will come with me, mistress, " shesaid to Angele, and reached out her hand. 

Angele fell on her knees and kissed it, tears falling down her cheek, then rose and followed the Queen from the chamber. She greatly desiredto look backward towards De la Foret, but some good angel bade her not. She realised that to offend the Queen at this moment might ruin all;and Elizabeth herself was little like to offer chance for farewell andlove-tokens. 

So it was that, with bowed head, Angele left the room with the Queen ofEngland, leaving Lempriere and De la Foret gazing at each other, theone bewildered, the other lost in painful reverie, and Leicester smilingmaliciously at them both. 

CHAPTER X

Every man, if you bring him to the right point, if you touch him in thecorner where he is most sensitive, where he most lives, as it were; ifyou prick his nerves with a needle of suggestion where all his passions, ambitions and sentiments are at white heat, will readily throw away thewhole game of life in some mad act out of harmony with all he ever did. It matters little whether the needle prick him by accident or blunder ordesign, he will burst all bounds, and establish again the old truth thateach of us will prove himself a fool given perfect opportunity. Nor needthe occasion of this revolution be a great one; the most trivial eventmay produce the great fire which burns up wisdom, prudence and habit. 

The Earl of Leicester, so long counted astute, clearheaded, andwell-governed, had been suddenly foisted out of balance, shaken from hisimperious composure, tortured out of an assumed and persistent urbanity, by the presence in Greenwich Palace of a Huguenot exile of no seemingimportance, save what the Medici grimly gave him by desiring his head. It appeared absurd that the great Leicester, whose nearness to thethrone had made him the most feared, most notable, and, by virtue ofhis opportunities, the most dramatic figure in England, should havesleepless nights by reason of a fugitive like Michel de la Foret. On thesurface it was preposterous that he should see in the Queen's offer ofservice to the refugee evidence that she was set to grant him specialfavours; it was equally absurd that her offer of safety to him on pledgeof his turning preacher should seem proof that she meant to have himnear her. Elizabeth had left the presence-chamber without so much asa glance at him, though she had turned and looked graciously at thestranger. He had hastily followed her, and thereafter impatientlyawaited a summons which never came, though he had sent a message thathis hours were at her Majesty's disposal. Waiting, he saw Angele'sfather escorted from the palace by a Gentleman Pensioner to a lodge inthe park; he saw Michel de la Foret taken to his apartments; he saw theSeigneur of Rozel walking in the palace grounds with such possession asthough they were his own, self-content in every motion of his body. 

Upon the instant the great Earl was incensed out of all proportion tothe affront of the Seigneur's existence. He suddenly hated Lempriereonly less than he hated Michel de la Foret. As he still waited irritablyfor a summons from Elizabeth, he brooded on every word and everylook she had given him of late; he recalled her manner to him in theante-chapel the day before, and the admiring look she cast on De laForet but now. He had seen more in it than mere approval of courage andthe self-reliant bearing of a refugee of her own religion. 

These were days when the soldier of fortune mounted to high places. Heneeded but to carry the banner of bravery, and a busy sword, and his wayto power was not hindered by poor estate. To be gently born was the onething needful, and Michel de la Foret was gently born; and he had stillhis sword, though he chose not to use it in Elizabeth's service. My Lordknew it might be easier for a stranger like De la Foret, who came withno encumbrance, to mount to place in the struggles of the Court, than for an Englishman, whose increasing and ever-bolder enemies wereundermining on every hand, to hold his own. 

He began to think upon ways and means to meet this sudden preference ofthe Queen, made sharply manifest as he waited in the ante-chamber, by asummons to the refugee to enter the Queen's apartments. When the refugeecame forth again he wore a sword the Queen had sent him, and a packetof Latimer's sermons were under his arm. Leicester was unaware thatElizabeth herself did not see De la Foret when he was thus hastilycalled; but that her lady-in-waiting, the Duke's Daughter, who figuredso largely in the pictures Lempriere drew of his experiences atGreenwich Palace, brought forth the sermons and the sword, with thismessage from the Queen:

"The Queen says that it is but fair to the sword to be by Michel dela Foret's side when the sermons are in his hand, that his choice haveevery seeming of fairness. For her Majesty says it is still his choicebetween the Sword and the Book till Trinity Day. "

Leicester, however, only saw the sword at the side of the refugee andthe gold-bound book under his arm as he came forth, and in a rage heleft the palace and gloomily walked under the trees, denying himself toevery one. 

To seize De la Foret, and send him to the Medici, and then rely onElizabeth's favour for his pardon, as he had done in the past? Thatmight do, but the risk to England was too great. It would be like theQueen, if her temper was up, to demand from the Medici the return of Dela Foret, and war might ensue. Two women, with two nations behind them, were not to be played lightly against each other, trusting to theircommon sense and humour. 

As he walked among the trees, brooding with averted eyes, he wassuddenly faced by the Seigneur of Rozel, who also was shaken from hisdiscretion and the best interests of the two fugitives he was bound toprotect, by a late offence against his own dignity. A seed of rancourhad been sown in his mind which had grown to a great size and mustpresently burst into a dark flower of vengeance. He, Lempriere of Rozel, with three dovecotes, the perquage, and the office of butler to theQueen, to be called a "farmer, " to be sneered at--it was not in theblood of man, not in the towering vanity of a Lempriere, to endure it atany price computable to mortal mind. 

Thus there were in England on that day two fools (there are as manynow), and one said:

"My Lord Leicester, I crave a word with you. "

"Crave on, good fellow, " responded Leicester with a look of boredom, making to pass by. 

"I am Lempriere, lord of Rozel, my lord--"

"Ah yes, I took you for a farmer, " answered Leicester. "Instead of that, I believe you keep doves, and wear a jerkin that fits like a king's. Dear Lord, so does greatness come with girth!"

"The King that gave me dove-cotes gave me honour, and 'tis not for theEarl of Leicester to belittle it. "

"What is your coat of arms?" said Leicester with a faint smile, but inan assumed tone of natural interest. 

"A swan upon a sea of azure, two stars above, and over all a sword witha wreath around its point, " answered Lempriere simply, unsuspectingirony, and touched by Leicester's flint where he was most like to flareup with vanity. 

"Ah!" said Leicester. "And the motto?"

"Mea spes supra stella--my hope is beyond the stars. "

"And the wreath--of parsley, I suppose?"

Now Lempriere understood, and he shook with fury as he roared:

"Yes, by God, and to be got at the point of the sword, to put on theheads of insolents like Lord Leicester!" His face was flaming, he waslike a cock strutting upon a stable mound. 

There fell a slight pause, and then Leicester said: "To-morrow atdaylight, eh?"

"Now, my lord, now!"

"We have no seconds. "

"'Sblood! 'Tis not your way, my lord, to be stickling in detail ofcourtesy. "

"'Tis not the custom to draw swords in secret, Lempriere of Rozel. Alsomy teeth are not on edge to fight you. "

Lempriere had already drawn his sword, and the look of his eyes was asthat of a mad bull in a ring. "You won't fight with me--you don't thinkRozel your equal?" His voice was high. 

Leicester's face took on a hard, cruel look. "We cannot fight among theladies, " he said quietly. Lempriere followed his glance, and saw theDuke's Daughter and another in the trees near by. 

He hastily put up his sword. "When, my lord?" he asked. 

"You will hear from me to-night, " was the answer, and Leicester wentforward hastily to meet the ladies--they had news no doubt. 

Lempriere turned on his heel and walked quickly away among the treestowards the quarters where Buonespoir was in durance, which was littlemore severe than to keep him within the palace yard. There he found thefool and the pirate in whimsical converse. 

The fool had brought a letter of inquiry and warm greeting fromAngele to Buonespoir, who was laboriously inditing one in return. WhenLempriere entered the pirate greeted him jovially. 

"In the very pinch of time you come, " he said. "You have grammar andsyntax and etiquette. "

"'Tis even so, Nuncio, " said the fool. "Here is needed prosodypotential. Exhale!"

The three put their heads together above the paper. 

CHAPTER XI

"I would know your story. How came you and yours to this pass? Wherewere you born? Of what degree are you? And this Michel de la Foret, whencame he to your feet--or you to his arms? I would know all. Begin wherelife began; end where you sit here at the feet of Elizabeth. This othercushion to your knees. There--now speak. We are alone. "

Elizabeth pushed a velvet cushion towards Angele, where she half-knelt, half-sat on the rush-strewn floor of the great chamber. The warm lightof the afternoon sun glowed through the thick-tinted glass high up, and, in the gleam, the heavy tapestries sent by an archduke, once suitor forElizabeth's hand, emerged with dramatic distinctness, and peopled theroom with silent watchers of the great Queen and the nobly-born but poorand fugitive Huguenot. A splendid piece of sculpture--Eleanor, wife ofEdward--given Elizabeth by another royal suitor, who had sought to beher consort through many years, caught the warm bath of gold and crimsonfrom the clerestory and seemed alive and breathing. Against the pedestalthe Queen had placed her visitor, the red cushions making vivid contrastto her white gown and black hair. In the half-kneeling, half-sittingposture, with her hands clasped before her, so to steady herselfto composure, Angele looked a suppliant--and a saint. Her pure, straightforward gaze, her smooth, urbane forehead, the guilelessnessthat spoke in every feature, were not made worldly by the intelligenceand humour reposing in the brown depths of her eyes. Not a line vexedher face or forehead. Her countenance was of a singular and almostpolished smoothness, and though her gown was severely simple bycomparison with silks and velvets, furs and ruffles of a gorgeous Courtat its most gorgeous period, yet in it here and there were touches ofexquisite fineness. The black velvet ribbon slashing her sleeves, theslight cloud-like gathering of lace at the back of her head, gave adistinguished softness to her appearance. 

She was in curious contrast to the Queen, who sat upon heaped-upcushions, her rich buff and black gown a blaze of jewels, her yellowhair, now streaked with grey, roped with pearls, her hands heavy withrings, her face past its youth, past its hopefulness, however noble andimpressive, past its vivid beauty. Her eyes wore ever a determined look, were persistent and vigilant, with a lurking trouble, yet flooded, too, by a quiet melancholy, like a low, insistent note that floats throughan opera of passion, romance, and tragedy; like a tone of pathosgiving deep character to some splendid pageant, which praises whilst itcommemorates, proclaiming conquest while the grass has not yet grown onquiet houses of the children of the sword who no more wield the sword. Evasive, cautious, secretive, creator of her own policy, she hadsacrificed her womanhood to the power she held and the State she served. Vain, passionate, and faithful, her heart all England and Elizabeth, thehunger for glimpses of what she had never known, and was never to know, thrust itself into her famished life; and she was wont to indulge, asnow, in fancies and follow some emotional whim with a determination verylike to eccentricity. 

That, at this time, when great national events were forward, whenconspiracies abounded, when Parliament was grimly gathering strengthto compel her to marry; and her Council were as sternly pursuing theirpolicy for the destruction of Leicester; while that very day had comenews of a rising in the North and of fresh Popish plots hatched inFrance--that in such case, this day she should set aside all business, refuse ambassadors and envoys admission, and occupy herself with twoHuguenot refugees seemed incredible to the younger courtiers. To suchas Cecil, however, there was clear understanding. He knew that whenshe seemed most inert, most impassive to turbulent occurrences, mostcareless of consequences, she was but waiting till, in her own mind, herplans were grown; so that she should see her end clearly ere she spokeor moved. Now, as the great minister showed himself at the door ofthe chamber and saw Elizabeth seated with Angele, he drew backinstinctively, expectant of the upraised hand which told him he mustwait. And, in truth, he was nothing loth to do so, for his news hecared little to deliver, important though it was that she should have itpromptly and act upon it soon. He turned away with a feeling of relief, however, for this gossip with the Huguenot maid would no doubt interesther, give new direction to her warm sympathies, which if roused in onething were ever more easily roused in others. He knew that a crisis wasnearing in the royal relations with Leicester. In a life of devotion toher service he had seen her before in this strange mood, and he couldfeel that she was ready for an outburst. As he thought of De la Foretand the favour with which she had looked at him he smiled grimly, for ifit meant aught it meant that it would drive Leicester to some act whichwould hasten his own doom; though, indeed, it might also make anotherpath more difficult for himself, for the Parliament, for the people. 

Little as Elizabeth could endure tales of love and news of marriage;little as she believed in any vows, save those made to herself; littleas she was inclined to adjust the rough courses of true love, she wasthe surgeon to this particular business, and she had the surgeon's loveof laying bare even to her own cynicism the hurt of the poor patientunder her knife. Indeed, so had Angele impressed her that for once shethought she might hear the truth. Because she saw the awe in theother's face and a worshipping admiration of the great protectress ofProtestantism, who had by large gifts of men and money in times pasthelped the Cause, she looked upon her here with kindness. 

"Speak now, mistress fugitive, and I will listen, " she added, as Cecilwithdrew; and she made a motion to musicians in a distant gallery. 

Angele's heart fluttered to her mouth, but the soft, simple music helpedher, and she began with eyes bent upon the ground, her linked fingersclasping and unclasping slowly. 

"I was born at Rouen, your high Majesty, " she said. "My mother was acousin of the Prince of Passy, the great Protestant--"

"Of Passy--ah!" said Elizabeth amazed. "Then you are Protestants indeed;and your face is no invention, but cometh honestly. No, no, 'tis noaccident--God rest his soul, great Passy!"

"She died--my mother--when I was a little child. I can but just rememberher--so brightly quiet, so quick, so beautiful. In Rouen life had littlemotion; but now and then came stir and turmoil, for war sent its messageinto the old streets, and our captains and our peasants poured forth tofight for the King. Once came the King and Queen--Francis and Mary--"

Elizabeth drew herself upright with an exclamation. "Ah, you have seenher--Mary of Scots, " she said sharply. "You have seen her?"

"As near as I might touch her with my hand, as near as is your highMajesty. She spoke to me--my mother's father was in her train;--as yetwe had not become Huguenots, nor did we know her Majesty as now theworld knows. They came, the King and Queen--and that was the beginning. "

She paused, and looked shyly at Elizabeth, as though she found it hardto tell her story. 

"And the beginning, it was--?" said Elizabeth, impatient and intent. 

"We went to Court. The Queen called my mother into her train. But it wasin no wise for our good. At Court my mother pined away--and so she diedin durance. "

"Wherefore in durance?"

"To what she saw she would not shut her eyes; to what she heard shewould not close her soul; what was required of her she would not do. "

"She would not obey the Queen?"

"She could not obey those whom the Queen favoured. Then the tyranny thatbroke her heart--"

The Queen interrupted her. 

"In very truth, but 'tis not in France alone that Queen's favouritesgrasp the sceptre and speak the word. Hath a Queen a thousand eyes--canshe know truth where most dissemble?"

"There was a man--he could not know there was one true woman there, whofor her daughter's sake, for her desired advancement, and because shewas cousin of Passy, who urged it, lived that starved life; this man, this prince, drew round her feet snares, set pit-falls for her while myfather was sent upon a mission. Steadfast she kept her soul unspotted;but it wore away her life. The Queen would not permit return toRouen--who can tell what tale was told her by one whom she foiled? Andso she stayed. In this slow, savage persecution, when she was likea bird that, thinking it is free, flieth against the window-pane andfalleth back beaten, so did she stay, and none could save her. To cryout, to throw herself upon the spears, would have been ruin of herself, her husband and her child; and for these she lived. "

Elizabeth's eyes had kindled. Perhaps never in her life had the life atCourt been so exposed to her. The simple words, meant but to convey thestory, and with no thought behind, had thrown a light on her own Court, on her own position. Adept in weaving a sinuous course in her policy, inmaking mazes for others to tread, the mazes which they in turn preparedhad never before been traced beneath her eyes to the same vivid andultimate effect. 

"Help me, ye saints, but things are not at such a pass in this place!"she said abruptly, but with weariness in her voice. "Yet sometimes Iknow not. The Court is a city by itself, walled and moated, and hath alife all its own. 'If there be found ten honest men within the city yetwill I save it, ' saith the Lord. By my father's head, I would not riska finger on the hazard if this city, this Court of Elizabeth were set'twixt the fire from Heaven and eternal peace. In truth, child, I wouldlay me down and die in black disgust were it not that one might comehereafter would make a very Sodom or Gomorrah of this land: and outyonder--out in all my counties, where the truth of England is among mypoor burgesses, who die for the great causes which my nobles profess butrisk not their lives--out yonder all that they have won, and for whichI have striven, would be lost. .. . Speak on. I have not heard so plain atongue and so little guile these twenty years. "

Angele continued, more courage in her voice. "In the midst of it allcame the wave of the new faith upon my mother. And before ill could fallupon her from her foes, she died and was at rest. Then we returnedto Rouen, my father and I, and there we lived in peril, but in greathappiness of soul until the day of massacre. That night in Paris we weregiven greatly of the mercy of God. "

"You were there--you were in the massacre at Paris?"

"In the house of the Duke of Langon, with whom was resting after ahazardous enterprise, Michel de la Foret. "

"And here beginneth the second lesson, " said the Queen with a smile onher lips; but there was a look of scrutiny in her eyes, and somethinglike irony in her tone. "And I will swear by all the stars of Heaventhat this Michel saved ye both. Is it not so?"

"It is even so. By his skill and bravery we found our way to safety, andin a hiding-place near to our loved Rouen watched him return from thegates of death. "

"He was wounded then?"

"Seven times wounded, and with as little blood left in him as would filla cup. But it was summer, and we were in the hills, and they brought us, our friends of Rouen, all that we had need of; and so God was with us. 

"But did he save thy life, except by skill, by indirect and fortunatewisdom? Was there deadly danger upon thee? Did he beat down the sword ofdeath?"

"He saved my life thrice directly. The wounds he carried were got byinterposing his own sword 'twixt death and me. "

"And that hath need of recompense?"

"My life was little worth the wounds he suffered; but I waited not untilhe saved it to owe it unto him. All that it is was his before he drewthe sword. "

"And 'tis this ye would call love betwixt ye--sweet givings and takingsof looks, and soft sayings, and unchangeable and devouring faith. Is'tthis--and is this all?"

The girl had spoken out of an innocent heart, but the challenge inthe Queen's voice worked upon her, and though she shrank a little, thefulness of her soul welled up and strengthened her. She spoke again, and now in her need and in her will to save the man she loved, by makingthis majesty of England his protector, her words had eloquence. 

"It is not all, noble Queen. Love is more than that. It is the waking inthe poorest minds, in the most barren souls, of something greater thanthemselves--as a chemist should find a substance that would give allother things by touching of them a new and higher value; as light andsun draw from the earth the tendrils of the seed that else had lainunproducing. 'Tis not alone soft words and touch of hand or lip. Thiscaring wholly for one outside one's self kills that self which elsewould make the world blind and deaf and dumb. None hath loved greatlybut hath helped to love in others. Ah, most sweet Majesty, for greatsouls like thine, souls born great, this medicine is not needful, foralready hath the love of a nation inspired and enlarged it; but forsouls like mine and of so many, none better and none worse than me, tolove one other soul deeply and abidingly lifts us higher than ourselves. Your Majesty hath been loved by a whole people, by princes and greatmen in a different sort--is it not the world's talk that none that everreigned hath drawn such slavery of princes, and of great nobles who havecourted death for hopeless love of one beyond their star? And is it notwritten in the world's book also that the Queen of England hath lovedno man, but hath poured out her heart to a people; and hath served greatcauses in all the earth because of that love which hath still enlargedher soul, dowered at birth beyond reckoning?" Tears filled her eyes. "Ah, your supreme Majesty, to you whose heart is universal, the loveof one poor mortal seemeth a small thing, but to those of littleconsequence it is the cable by which they unsteadily hold over the chasm'twixt life and immortality. To thee, oh greatest monarch of the world, it is a staff on which thou need'st not lean, which thou hast nevergrasped; to me it is my all; without it I fail and fall and die. "

She had spoken as she felt, yet, because she was a woman and guessed themind of another woman, she had touched Elizabeth where her armourwas weakest. She had suggested that the Queen had been the object ofadoration, but had never given her heart to any man; that hers wasthe virgin heart and life; and that she had never stooped to conquer. Without realising it, and only dimly moving with that end in view, shehad whetted Elizabeth's vanity. She had indeed soothed a pride woundedof late beyond endurance, suspecting, as she did, that Leicester hadplayed his long part for his own sordid purposes, that his devotion wasmore alloy than precious metal. No note of praise could be pitched toohigh for Elizabeth, and if only policy did not intervene, if but nopolitical advantage was lost by saving De la Foret, that safety seemednow secure. 

"You tell a tale and adorn it with good grace, " she said, and held outher hand. Angele kissed it. "And you have said to Elizabeth what noneelse dared to say since I was Queen here. He who hath never seen thelightning hath no dread of it. I had not thought there was in the worldso much artlessness, with all the power of perfect art. But we live tobe wiser. Thou shalt continue in thy tale. Thou hast seen Mary, onceQueen of France, now Queen of Scots--answer me fairly; without if, orthough, or any sort of doubt, the questions I shall put. Which of ustwain, this ruin-starred queen or I, is of higher stature?"

"She hath advantage in little of your Majesty, " bravely answered Angele. 

"Then, " answered Elizabeth sourly, "she is too high, for I myselfam neither too high nor too low. .. . And of complexion, which is thefairer?"

"Her complexion is the fairer, but your Majesty's countenance hath truerbeauty, and sweeter majesty. " Elizabeth frowned slightly, then said:

"What exercises did she take when you were at the Court?"

"Sometimes she hunted, your Majesty, and sometimes she played upon thevirginals. "

"Did she play to effect?"

"Reasonably, your noble Majesty. "

"You shall hear me play, and then speak truth upon us, for I have knownnone with so true a tongue since my father died. "

Thereon she called to a lady who waited near in a little room to bringan instrument; but at that moment Cecil appeared again at the door, andhis face seeming to show anxiety, Elizabeth, with a sigh, beckoned himto enter. 

"Your face, Cecil, is as long as a Lenten collect. What raven croaks inEngland on May Day eve?" Cecil knelt before her, and gave into her handa paper. 

"What record runs here?" she asked querulously. "A prayer of yourfaithful Lords and Commons that your Majesty will grant speech withtheir chosen deputies to lay before your Majesty a cause they have atheart. "

"Touching of--?" darkly asked the Queen. 

"The deputies wait even now--will not your Majesty receive them? Theyhave come humbly, and will go hence as humbly on the instant, if thehour is ill chosen. "

Immediately Elizabeth's humour changed. A look of passion swept acrossher face, but her eyes lighted, and her lips smiled proudly. She avoidedtroubles by every means, fought off by subtleties the issues which shemust meet; but when the inevitable hour came none knew so well to meetit as though it were a dearest friend, no matter what the danger, howgreat the stake. 

"They are here at my door, these good servants of the State--shall theybe kept dangling?" she said loudly. "Though it were time for prayers andGod's mercy yet should they speak with me, have my counsel, or my handupon the sacred parchment of the State. Bring them hither, Cecil. Nowwe shall see--Now you shall see, Angele of Rouen, now you shall see howqueens shall have no hearts to call their own, but be head and heart andsoul and body at the will of every churl who thinks he serves the Stateand knows the will of Heaven. Stand here at my left hand. Mark theplayers and the play. "

Kneeling, the deputies presented a resolution from the Lords andCommons that the Queen should, without more delay, in keeping with heroft-expressed resolve and the promise of her Council, appoint one whoshould succeed to the throne in case of her death "without posterity. "Her faithful people pleaded with her gracious Majesty to foregounwillingness to marry and seek a consort worthy of her supremeconsideration, to be raised to a place beside her near that throne whichshe had made the greatest in the world. 

Gravely, solemnly, the chief members of the Lords and Commons spoke, andwith as weighty pauses and devoted protestations as though this were thefirst time their plea had been urged, this obvious duty had been set outbefore her. Long ago in the flush and pride of her extreme youth and thefull assurance of the fruits of marriage, they had spoken with thesame sober responsibility; and though her youth had gone and the oldcertainty had for ever disappeared, they spoke of her marriage and itsconsequences as though it were still that far-off yesterday. Well forthem that they did so, for though time had flown and royal suitorswithout number had become figures dim in the people's mind, Elizabeth, fed upon adulation, invoked, admired, besieged by young courtiers, flattered by maids who praised her beauty, had never seen the handsof the clock pass high noon, and still remained under the dearest andsaddest illusion which can rest in a woman's mind. Long after the handsof life's clock had moved into afternoon, the ancient prayer was stillgravely presented that she should marry and give an heir to England'scrown; and she as solemnly listened and dropped her eyes, and strove tohide her virgin modesty behind a high demeanour which must needs sinkself in royal duty. 

"These be the dear desires of your supreme Majesty's faithful Lords andCommons and the people of the shires whose wills they represent. YourMajesty's life, God grant it last beyond that of the youngest of yourpeople so greatly blessed in your rule! But accidents of time be many;and while the world is full of guile, none can tell what peril may besetthe crown, if your Majesty's wisdom sets not apart, gives not to hercountry, one whom the nation can surround with its care, encompasslovingly by its duty. "

The talk with Angele had had a curious influence upon the Queen. Itwas plain that now she was moved by real feeling, and that, though shedeceived herself, or pretended so to do, shutting her eyes to soberfacts, and dreaming old dreams--as it were, in a world where never wasa mirror nor a timepiece--yet there was working in her a fresher spirit, urging her to a fairer course than she had shaped for many a day. 

"My lords and gentlemen and my beloved subjects, " she answeredpresently, and for an instant set her eyes upon Angele, then turned tothem again, "I pray you stand and hear me. .. . Ye have spoken fair wordsto my face, and of my face, and of the person of this daughter of greatHenry, from whom I got whatever grace or manner or favour is to me; andby all your reasoning you do flatter the heart of the Queen of England, whose mind indeed sleeps not in deed or desire for this realm. Ye havedrawn a fair picture of this mortal me, and though from the grace ofthe picture the colours may fade by time, may give by weather, may bespoiled by chance, yet my loyal mind, nor time with her swift wingsshall overtake, nor the misty clouds may darken, nor chance with herslippery foot may overthrow. It sets its course by the heart of England, and when it passeth there shall be found that one shall be left behindwho shall be surety of all that hath been lying in the dim warehouseof fate for England's high future. Be sure that in this thing I haveentered into the weigh-house, and I hold the balance, and ye shall bewell satisfied. Ye have been fruitful in counsel, ye have been longknitting a knot never tied, ye shall have comfort soon. But know yebeyond peradventure that I have bided my time with good reason. If ourloom be framed with rotten hurdles, when our web is well-ny done, ourwork is yet to begin. Against mischance and dark discoveries my mind, with knowledge hidden from you, hath been firmly arrayed. If it be inyour thought that I am set against a marriage which shall serve thenation, purge yourselves, friends, of that sort of heresy, for thebelief is awry. Though I think that to be one and always one, neithermated nor mothering, be good for a private woman, for a prince it is notmeet. Therefore, say to my Lords and Commons that I am more concernedfor what shall chance to England when I am gone than to linger out myliving thread. I hope, my lords and gentlemen, to die with a good NuncDimittis, which could not be if I did not give surety for the nationafter my graved bones. Ye shall hear soon--ye shall hear and besatisfied, and so I give you to the care of Almighty God. "

Once more they knelt, and then slowly withdrew, with faces downcast andtroubled. They had secret knowledge which she did not yet possess, butwhich at any moment she must know, and her ambiguous speech carriedno conviction to their minds. Yet their conference with her was mostopportune, for the news she must presently receive, brought by amessenger from Scotland who had outstripped all others, would no doubtmove her to action which should set the minds of the people at rest, andgo far to stem the tide of conspiracy flowing through the kingdom. 

Elizabeth stood watching them, and remained gazing after they haddisappeared; then rousing herself, she turned to leave the room, andbeckoned to Angele to follow. 

CHAPTER XII

As twilight was giving place to night Angele was roused from the reverieinto which she had fallen, by the Duke's Daughter, who whispered toher that if she would have a pleasure given to but few, she would comequickly. Taking her hand the Duke's Daughter--as true and whimsicala spirit as ever lived in troubled days and under the aegis of thesword-led her swiftly to the Queen's chamber. They did not enter, butwaited in a quiet gallery. 

"The Queen is playing upon the virginals, and she playeth best whenalone; so stand you here by this tapestry, and you shall have pleasurebeyond payment, " said the Duke's Daughter. 

Angele had no thought that the Queen of her vanity had commanded thatshe be placed there as though secretly, and she listened dutifullyat first; but presently her ears were ravished; and even the Duke'sDaughter showed some surprise, for never had she heard the Queen playwith such grace and feeling. The countenance of the musician was towardsthem, and at last, as though by accident, Elizabeth looked up and sawthe face of her lady. 

"Spy, spy, " she cried. "Come hither--come hither, all of you!"

When they had descended and knelt to her, she made as if she wouldpunish the Duke's Daughter by striking her with a scarf that lay at herhand, but to Angele she said:

"How think you then, hath that other greater skill--Darnley's wife Imean?"

"Not she or any other hath so delighted me, " said Angele, with worshipin her eyes--so doth talent given to majesty become lifted beyond itsmeasure. 

The Queen's eyes lighted. "We shall have dancing, then, " she said. "Thedance hath charms for me. We shall not deny our youth. The heart shallkeep as young as the body. "

An instant later the room was full of dancers, and Elizabeth gave herhand to Leicester, who bent every faculty to pleasing her. His face haddarkened as he had seen Angele beside her, but the Queen's graciousness, whether assumed or real, had returned, and her face carried a look oftriumph and spirit and delight. Again and again she glanced towardsAngele, and what she saw evidently gave her pleasure, for she laughedand disported herself with grace and an agreeable temper, and Leicesterlent himself to her spirit with adroit wit and humility. He had seen hismistake of the morning, and was now intent to restore himself to favour. 

He succeeded well, for the emotions roused in Elizabeth during the day, now heightened by vanity and emulation, found in him a centre uponwhich they could converge; and, in her mind, Angele, for the nonce, wasdisassociated from any thought of De la Foret. Leicester's undoubtedgifts were well and cautiously directed, and his talent of assumedpassion--his heart was facile, and his gallantry knew no bounds--wasput to dexterous use, convincing for the moment. The Queen seemed allcomplaisance again. Presently she had Angele brought to her. 

"How doth her dance compare-she who hath wedded Darnley?"

"She danceth not so high nor disposedly, with no such joyous lightnessas your high Majesty, but yet she moveth with circumspection. "

"Circumspection--circumspection, that is no gift in dancing, whichshould be wilful yet airily composed, thoughtless yet inducing. Circumspection!--in nothing else hath Mary shown it where she should. 'Tis like this Queen perversely to make a psalm of dancing, and thenpirouette with sacred duty. But you have spoken the truth, and I am wellcontent. So get you to your rest. "

She tapped Ange'le's cheek. "You shall remain here to-night. 'Tis toolate for you to be sent abroad. " She was about to dismiss her, whenthere was a sudden stir. Cecil had entered and was making his way to theQueen, followed by two strangers. Elizabeth waited their approach. 

"Your gracious Majesty, " said Cecil, in a voice none heard saveElizabeth, for all had fallen back at a wave of her hand, "the Queen ofScots is the mother of a fair son. "

Elizabeth's face flushed, then became pale, and she struck her kneewith her clinched hand. "Who bringeth the news?" she inquired in a sharpvoice. 

"Sir Andrew Melvill here. "

"Who is with him yonder?"

"One who hath been attached to the Queen of Scots. "

"He hath the ill look of such an one, " she answered, and then said belowher breath bitterly: "She hath a son--and I am but a barren stock. "

Rising, she added hurriedly: "We will speak to the people at the May Daysports to-morrow. Let there be great feasting. "

She motioned to Sir Andrew Melvill to come forward, and with a gestureof welcome and a promise of speech with him on the morrow she dismissedthem. 

Since the two strangers had entered, Angele's eyes had been fastened onthe gentleman who accompanied Sir Andrew Melvill. Her first glanceat him had sent a chill through her, and she remained confused anddisturbed. In vain her memory strove to find where the man was set inher past. The time, the place, the event eluded her, but a sense offoreboding possessed her; and her eyes followed him with strainedanxiety as he retired from the presence. 

CHAPTER XIII

As had been arranged when Lempriere challenged Leicester, they met soonafter dawn among the trees beside the Thames. A gentleman of the court, to whom the Duke's Daughter had previously presented Lempriere, gailyagreed to act as second, and gallantly attended the lord of Rozel in hisadventurous enterprise. There were few at Court who had not some grudgeagainst Leicester, few who would not willingly have done duty at such atime; for Leicester's friends were of fair-weather sort, ready to defendhim, to support him, not for friendship but for the crumbs that droppedfrom the table of his power. The favourite himself was attended by theEarl of Ealing, a youngster who had his spurs to win, who thought itpolicy to serve the great time-server. Two others also came. 

It was a morning little made for deeds of rancour or of blood. As theypassed, the early morning mists above the green fields of Kent and Essexwere being melted by the summer sun. The smell of ripening fruit came onthem with pungent sweetness, their feet crashed odorously through clumpsof tiger-lilies, and the dew on the ribbon-grass shook glistening dropsupon their velvets. Overhead the carolling of the thrush came swimmingrecklessly through the trees, and far over in the fields the ploughmenstarted upon the heavy courses of their labour; while here and therepoachers with bows and arrows slid through the green undergrowth, likespies hovering on an army's flank. 

To Lempriere the morning carried no impression save that life was wellworth living. No agitation passed across his nerves, no apprehensionreached his mind. He had no imagination; he loved the things that hiseyes saw because they filled him with enjoyment; but why they were, or whence they came, or what they meant or boded, never gave himmeditation. A vast epicurean, a consummate egotist, ripe with feelingand rich with energy, he could not believe that when he spoke theheavens would not fall. The stinging sweetness of the morning was atonic to all his energies, an elation to his mind; he swaggered throughthe lush grasses and boskage as though marching to a marriage. 

Leicester, on his part, no more caught at the meaning of the morning, atthe long whisper of enlivened nature, than did his foe. The day gave tohim no more than was his right. If the day was not fine, then Leicesterwas injured; but if the day was fine, then Leicester had his due. Moralblindness made him blind for the million deep teachings tremblinground him. He felt only the garish and the splendid. So it was that atKenilworth, where his Queen had visited him, the fetes that he had heldwould far outshine the fete which would take place in Greenwich Park onthis May Day. The fete of this May Day would take place, but would hesee it? The thought flashed through his mind that he might not; but hetrod it under foot; not through an inborn, primitive egotism like thatof Lempriere, but through an innate arrogance, an unalterable beliefthat Fate was ever on his side. He had played so many tricks with Fate, had mocked while taking its gifts so often, that, like the son who hasflouted his indulgent father through innumerable times, he conceivedthat he should never be disinherited. It irked him that he should befighting with a farmer, as he termed the Seigneur of the Jersey Isle;but there was in the event, too, a sense of relief, for he had a willfor murder. Yesterday's events were still fresh in his mind; and he hada feeling that the letting of Lempriere's blood would cool his own andbe some cure for the choler which the presence of these strangers at theCourt had wrought in him. 

There were better swordsmen in England than he, but his skill wasvarious, and he knew tricks of the trade which this primitive Normancould never have learnt. He had some touch of wit, some bitingobservation, and, as he neared the place of the encounter, he playedupon the coming event with a mordant frivolity. Not by nature a braveman, he was so much a fatalist, such a worshipper of his star, thathe had acquired an artificial courage which had served him well. Theunschooled gentlemen with him roared with laughter at his sallies, andthey came to the place of meeting as though to a summer feast. 

"Good-morrow, nobility, " said Leicester with courtesy overdone, andbowing much too low. "Good-morrow, valentine, " answered Lempriere, flushing slightly at the disguised insult, and rising to the moment. 

"I hear the crop of fools is short this year in Jersey, and through nofault of yours--you've done your best most loyally, " jeered Leicester, as he doffed his doublet, his gentlemen laughing in derision. 

"'Tis true enough, my lord, and I have come to find new seed in England, where are fools to spare; as I trust in Heaven one shall be spared onthis very day for planting yonder. "

He was eaten with rage, but he was cool and steady. 

He was now in his linen and small clothes and looked like some untrainedHercules. 

"Well said, nobility, " laughed Leicester with an ugly look. "'Tis seedtime--let us measure out the seed. On guard!"

Never were two men such opposites, never two so seemingly ill-matched. Leicester's dark face and its sardonic look, his lithe figure, thenervous strength of his bearing, were in strong contrast to the bulkingbreadth, the perspiring robustness of Lempriere of Rozel. It was noteasy of belief that Lempriere should be set to fight this toreador of afighting Court. But there they stood, Lempriere's face with a great-eyedgravity looming above his rotund figure like a moon above a purplecloud. But huge and loose though the Seigneur's motions seemed, he wasas intent as though there were but two beings in the universe, Leicesterand himself. A strange alertness seemed to be upon him, and, asLeicester found when the swords crossed, he was quicker than his bulkgave warrant. His perfect health made his vision sure; and, though nota fine swordsman, he had done much fighting in his time, had beenever ready for the touch of steel; and had served some warlike daysin fighting France, where fate had well befriended him. That whichLeicester meant should be by-play of a moment became a full half-hour'sdesperate game. Leicester found that the thrust--the fatal thrustlearned from an Italian master--he meant to give, was met by a swiftprecision, responding to quick vision. Again and again he would havebrought the end, but Lempriere heavily foiled him. The wound which theSeigneur got at last, meant to be mortal, was saved from that by thefacility of a quick apprehension. Indeed, for a time the issue hadseemed doubtful, for the endurance and persistence of the Seigneur madefor exasperation and recklessness in his antagonist, and once blood wasdrawn from the wrist of the great man; but at length Lempriere went uponthe aggressive. Here he erred, for Leicester found the chance for whichhe had manoeuvred--to use the feint and thrust got out of Italy. Hebrought his enemy low, but only after a duel the like of which had neverbeen seen at the Court of England. The toreador had slain his bull atlast, but had done no justice to his reputation. Never did man moregallantly sustain his honour with heaviest odds against him than did theSeigneur of Rozel that day. 

As he was carried away by the merry gentlemen of the Court, he calledback to the favourite:

"Leicester is not so great a swordsman after all. Hang fast to yourhonours by the skin of your teeth, my lord. "

CHAPTER XIV

It was Monday, and the eyes of London and the Court were turned towardsGreenwich Park, where the Queen was to give entertainment to the FrenchEnvoy who had come once more to urge upon the Queen marriage with ason of the Medici, and to obtain an assurance that she would return toFrance the widow of the great Montgomery and his valiant lieutenant, Michel de la Foret. The river was covered with boats and barges, festooned, canopied, and hung with banners and devices; and fromsunrise music and singing conducted down the stream the gaily dressedpopulace--for those were the days when a man spent on his ruff and hishose and his russet coat as much as would feed and house a family for ayear; when the fine-figured ruflier with sables about his neck, corkedslipper, trimmed buskin, and cloak of silk or damask furred, carried hisall upon his back. 

Loud-voiced gallants came floating by; men of a hundred guilds bearingdevices pompously held on their way to the great pageant; countrybumpkins up from Surrey roystered and swore that there was but oneland that God had blessed, and challenged the grinning watermen fromGravesend and Hampton Court to deny it; and the sun with ardour drovefrom the sky every invading cloud, leaving Essex and Kent as far as eyecould see perfect green gardens of opulence. 

Before Elizabeth had left her bed, London had emptied itself intoGreenwich Park. Thither the London Companies had come in their varieddazzling accoutrements--hundreds armed in fine corselets bearingthe long Moorish pike; tall halberdiers in the unique armour calledAlmainrivets, and gunners or muleteers equipped in shirts of mail withmorions or steel caps. Here too were to come the Gentlemen Pensioners, resplendent in scarlet, to "run with the spear;" and hundreds ofmen-at-arms were set at every point to give garish bravery to all. Thousands of citizens, openmouthed, gazed down the long arenas of greenfestooned with every sort of decoration and picturesque invention. Cagesof large birds from the Indies, fruits, corn, fishes, grapes, hung inthe trees, players perched in the branches discoursed sweet music, andpoets recited their verses from rustic bridges or on platforms withweapons and armour hung trophy-wise on ragged staves. Upon a small lakea dolphin four-and-twenty feet in length came swimming, within its bellya lively orchestra; Italian tumblers swung from rope to bar; and crowdsgathered at the places where bear and bull-baiting were to excite thenone too fastidious tastes of the time. 

All morning the gay delights went on, and at high noon the cry wascarried from mouth to mouth: "The Queen! The Queen!"

She appeared on a balcony surrounded by her lords and ladies, and therereceived the diplomatists, speaking at length to the French Envoy ina tone of lightness and elusive cheerfulness which he was at a lossto understand and tried in vain to pierce by cogent remarks bearingon matters of moment involved in his embassage. Not far away stoodLeicester, but the Queen had done no more than note his presence bya glance, and now and again with ostentatious emphasis she spoketo Angele, whom she had had brought to her in the morning beforechapel-going. Thus early, after a few questions and some scrutiny, shehad sent her in charge of a gentleman-at-arms and a maid of the Duke'sDaughter to her father's lodging, with orders to change her robe, toreturn to the palace in good time before noon, and to bring her fatherto a safe place where he could watch the pleasures of the people. WhenAngele came to the presence again she saw that the Queen was wearing agown of pure white with the sleeves shot with black, such as sheherself had worn when admitted to audience yesterday. Vexed, agitated, embittered as Elizabeth had been by the news brought to her the nightbefore, she had kept her wardrobers and seamstresses at work the wholenight to alter a white satin habit to the simplicity and style of thatwhich Angele had worn. 

"What think you of my gown, my lady refugee?" she said to Angele atlast, as the Gentlemen Pensioners paraded in the space below, followedby the Knights Tilters--at their head the Queen's Champion, Sir HenryLee: twenty-five of the most gallant and favoured of the courtiers ofElizabeth, including the gravest of her counsellors and the youngestgallant who had won her smile, Master Christopher Hatton. Some of thesebrave suitors, taken from the noblest families, had appeared in thetilt-yard every anniversary of the year of her accession, and hadlifted their romantic office, which seemed but the service of enamouredknights, into an almost solemn dignity. 

The vast crowd disposed itself around the great improvised yard wherethe Knights Tilters were to engage, and the Queen, followed by herretinue, descended to the dais which had been set up near the palace. Her white satin gown, roped with pearls only at the neck and breast, glistened in the bright sun, and her fair hair took on a burnishedradiance. As Angele passed with her in the gorgeous procession, shecould not but view the scene with admiring eye, albeit her own sweetsober attire, a pearly grey, seemed little in keeping; for the ladiesand lords were most richly attired, and the damask and satin cloaks, crimson velvet gowns, silk hoods, and jewelled swords and daggers made abrave show. She was like some moth in a whorl of butterflies. 

Her face was pale, and her eye had a curious disturbed look, as thoughthey had seen frightening things. The events of last evening had triedher simple spirit, and she shrank from this glittering show; but theknowledge that her lover's life was in danger, and that her happinesswas here and now at stake, held her bravely to her place, beset as itwas with peril; for the Queen, with that eccentricity which had liftedher up yesterday, might cast her down to-day, and she had good reasonto fear the power and influence of Leicester, whom she knew with a sureinstinct was intent on Michel's ruin. Behind all her nervous shrinkingand her heart's doubt, the memory of the face of the stranger she hadseen last night with Sir Andrew Melvill tortured her. She could not findthe time and place where she had seen the eyes that, in the palace, hadfilled her with mislike and abhorrence as they looked upon the Queen. Again and again in her fitful sleep had she dreamt of him, and a senseof foreboding was heavy upon her--she seemed to hear the footfall ofcoming disaster. The anxiety of her soul lent an unnatural brightness toher eyes; so that more than one enamoured courtier made essay to engageher in conversation, and paid her deferential compliment when theQueen's eyes were not turned her way. Come to the dais, she was placednot far from her Majesty, beside the Duke's Daughter, whose whimsicalnature found frequent expression in what the Queen was wont to call "amerry volt. " She seemed a privileged person, with whom none ventured totake liberties, and against whom none was entitled to bear offence, forher quips were free from malice, and her ingenuity in humour of mark. She it was who had put into the Queen's head that morning an idea whichwas presently to startle Angele and all others. 

Leicester was riding with the Knights Tilters, and as they canteredlightly past the dais, trailing their spears in obeisance, Elizabethengaged herself in talk with Cecil, who was standing near, and appearednot to see the favourite. This was the first time since he had mountedto good fortune that she had not thrown him a favour to pick up with hisspear and wear in her honour, and he could scarce believe that shehad meant to neglect him. He half halted, but she only deigned aninclination of the head, and he spurred his horse angrily on with amuttered imprecation, yet, to all seeming, gallantly paying homage. 

"There shall be doings ere this day is done. 'Beware the Gipsy'!" saidthe Duke's Daughter in a low tone to Angele, and she laughed lightly. 

"Who is the Gipsy?" asked Angele, with good suspicion, however. 

"Who but Leicester, " answered the other. "Is he not black enough?"

"Why was he so called? Who put the name upon Who but the Earl of Sussexas he died--as noble a chief, as true a counsellor as ever spoke truthto a Queen. But truth is not all at Court, and Sussex was no flatterer. Leicester bowed under the storm for a moment when Sussex showed him inhis true colours; but Sussex had no gift of intrigue, the tide turned, and so he broke his heart, and died. But he left a message which Isometimes remember with my collects. 'I am now passing to anotherworld, ' said he, 'and must leave you to your fortunes and to the Queen'sgrace and goodness; but beware the Gipsy, for he will be too hard forall of you; you know not the beast so well as I do. ' But my Lord Sussexwas wrong. One there is who knows him through and through, and hathlittle joy in the knowing. "

The look in the eyes of the Duke's Daughter became like steel and hervoice hardened, and Angele realised that Leicester had in this beautifuland delicate maid-of-honour as bitter an enemy as ever brought downthe mighty from their seats; that a pride had been sometime wounded, suffered an unwarrantable affront, which only innocence could feel soacutely. Her heart went out to the Duke's Daughter as it had nevergone out to any of her sex since her mother's death, and she showed heradmiration in her glance. The other saw it and smiled, slipping a handin hers for a moment; and then a look, half-debating, half-triumphant, came into her face as her eyes followed Leicester down the greenstretches of the tilting-yard. 

The trumpet sounded, the people broke out in shouts of delight, thetilting began. For an hour the handsome joust went on, the Earl ofOxford, Charles Howard, Sir Henry Lee, Sir Christopher Hatton, andLeicester challenging, and so even was the combat that victory seemed tosettle in the plumes of neither, though Leicester of them all showed notthe greatest skill, while in some regards greatest grace and deportment. Suddenly there rode into the lists, whence, no one seemed to know, sointent had the public gaze been fixed, so quickly had he come, a mountedfigure all in white, and at the moment when Sir Henry Lee had criedaloud his challenge for the last time. Silence fell as the bright figurecantered down the list, lifted the gauge, and sat still upon his blacksteed. Consternation fell. None among the people or the Knights Tiltersknew who the invader was, and Leicester called upon the Masters of theCeremonies to demand his name and quality. The white horseman madeno reply, but sat unmoved, while noise and turmoil suddenly sprang uparound him. 

Presently the voice of the Queen was heard clearly ringing through thelists. "His quality hath evidence. Set on. "

The Duke's Daughter laughed, and whispered mischievously in Angele'sear. 

The gentlemen of England fared ill that day in the sight of all thepeople, for the challenger of the Knights Tilters was more than a matchfor each that came upon him. He rode like a wild horseman of Yucatan. Wary, resourceful, sudden in device and powerful in onset, he bore alldown, until the Queen cried: "There hath not been such skill in Englandsince my father rode these lists. Three of my best gentlemen down, andit hath been but breathing to him. Now, Sir Harry Lee, it is thy turn, "she laughed as she saw the champion ride forward; "and next 'tis thine, Leicester. Ah, Leicester would have at him now!" she added sharply, asshe saw the favourite spur forward before the gallant Lee. "He is fullof choler--it becomes him, but it shall not be; bravery is not all. Andif he failed"--she smiled acidly--"he would get him home to Kenilworthand show himself no more--if he failed, and the White Knight failed not!What think you, dove?" she cried to the Duke's Daughter. "Would he notfall in the megrims for that England's honour had been over thrown?Leicester could not live if England's honour should be toppled down likeour dear Chris Hatton and his gallants yonder. "

The Duke's Daughter curtsied. "Methinks England's honour is in littleperil--your Majesty knows well how to 'fend it. No subject keeps it. "

"If I must 'fend it, dove, then Leicester there must not fight to-day. It shall surely be Sir Harry Lee. My Lord Leicester must have the placeof honour at the last, " she called aloud. Leicester swung his horseround and galloped to the Queen. 

"Your Majesty, " he cried in suppressed anger, "must I give place?"

"When all have failed and Leicester has won, then all yield place toLeicester, " said the Queen drily. The look on his face was not good tosee, but he saluted gravely and rode away to watch the encounter betweenthe most gallant Knight Tilter in England and the stranger. Rage was inhis heart, and it blinded him to the certainty of his defeat, for hewas not expert in the lists. But by a sure instinct he had guessed theidentity of the White Horseman, and every nerve quivered with desireto meet him in combat. Last night's good work seemed to have gone fornaught. Elizabeth's humour had changed; and to-day she seemed set onhumiliating him before the nobles who hated him, before the people whohad found in him the cause why the Queen had not married, so giving noheir to the throne. Perturbed and charged with anger as he was, however, the combat now forward soon chained his attention. Not in many ayear had there been seen in England such a display of skill anddetermination. The veteran Knight Tilter, who knew that the result ofthis business meant more than life to him, and that more than the honourof his comrades was at stake--even the valour of England which had beenchallenged--fought as he had never fought before, as no man had foughtin England for many a year. At first the people cried aloud theirencouragement; but as onset and attack after onset and attack showedthat two masters of their craft, two desperate men, had met, and thatthe great sport had become a vital combat between their own champion andthe champion of another land--Spain, France, Denmark, Russia, Italy?--ahush spread over the great space, and every eye was strained; men gazedwith bated breath. 

The green turf was torn and mangled, the horses reeked with sweat andfoam, but overhead the soaring skylark sang, as it were, to express thejoyance of the day. During many minutes the only sound that brokethe stillness was the clash of armed men, the thud of hoofs, and thesnorting and the wild breathing of the chargers. The lark's notes, however, ringing out over the lists freed the tongue of the Queen'sfool, who suddenly ran out into the lists, in his motley and cap andbells, and in his high trilling voice sang a fool's song to the fightingtwain:

 "Who would lie down and close his eyes While yet the lark sings o'er the dale? Who would to Love make no replies, Nor drink the nut-brown ale, While throbs the pulse, and full 's the purse And all the world 's for sale?"

Suddenly a cry of relief, of roaring excitement, burst from the people. Both horsemen and their chargers were on the ground. The fight was over, the fierce game at an end. That which all had feared, even the Queenherself, as the fight fared on, had not come to pass--England's championhad not been beaten by the armed mystery, though the odds had seemedagainst him. 

 "Though wintry blasts may prove unkind, When winter's past we do forget; Love's breast in summer time is kind, And all 's well while life 's with us yet Hey, ho, now the lark is mating, Life's sweet wages are in waiting!"

Thus sang the fool as the two warriors were helped to their feet. Cumbered with their armour, and all dust-covered and blood-stained, though not seriously hurt, they were helped to their horses, and rode tothe dais where the Queen sat. 

"Ye have fought like men of old, " she said, "and neither had advantageat the last. England's champion still may cry his challenge and not beforsworn, and he who challenged goeth in honour again from the lists. You, sir, who have challenged, shall we not see your face or hearyour voice? For what country, for what prince lifted you the gauge andchallenged England's honour?"

"I crave your high Majesty's pardon"--Angele's heart stood still. Herlove had not pierced his disguise, though Leicester's hate had doneso on the instant--"I crave your noble Majesty's grace, " answered thestranger, "that I may still keep my face covered in humility. My voicespeaks for no country and for no prince. I have fought for mine ownhonour, and to prove to England's Queen that she hath a champion whosmiteth with strong arm, as on me and my steed this hath been seento-day. "

"Gallantly thought and well said, " answered Elizabeth; "but England'schampion and his strong arm have no victory. If gifts were given theymust needs be cut in twain. But answer me, what is your country? Iwill not have it that any man pick up the gauge of England for his ownhonour. What is your country?

"I am an exile, your high Majesty; and the only land for which Iraise my sword this day is that land where I have found safety from myenemies. "

The Queen turned and smiled at the Duke's Daughter. "I knew not wheremy own question might lead, but he hath turned it to full account, " shesaid, under her breath. "His tongue is as ready as his spear. Then yehave both laboured in England's honour, and I drink to you both, " sheadded, and raised to her lips a glass of wine which a page presented. "I love ye both--in your high qualities, " she hastened to add with dryirony, and her eye rested mockingly on Leicester. 

"My lords and gentlemen and all of my kingdom, " she added in a clearvoice, insistent in its force, "ye have come upon May Day to takedelight of England in my gardens, and ye are welcome. Ye have seen sucha sight as doeth good to the eyes of brave men. It hath pleased me well, and I am constrained to say to you what, for divers great reasons, Ihave kept to my own counsels, labouring for your good. The day hathcome, however, the day and the hour when ye shall know that wherein Ipropose to serve you as ye well deserve. It is my will--and now I see myway to its good fulfilment--that I remain no longer in that virgin statewherein I have ever lived. "

Great cheering here broke in, and for a time she could get no further. Ever alive to the bent of the popular mind, she had chosen a perfectoccasion to take them into her confidence--however little or much shewould abide by her words, or intended the union of which she spoke. Inthe past she had counselled with her great advisers, with Cecil and therest, and through them messages were borne to the people; but nowshe spoke direct to them all, and it had its immediate reward--theacclamations were as those with which she was greeted when she firstpassed through the streets of London on inheriting the crown. 

Well pleased, she continued: "This I will do with expedition andweightiest judgment, for of little account though I am, he thatsits with the Queen of England in this realm must needs be a princeindeed. .. . So be ye sure of this that ye shall have your heart-mostwishes, and there shall be one to come after me who will wear this crowneven as I have worn, in direct descent, my father's crown. Our dearestsister, the Queen of the Scots, hath been delivered of a fair son; andin high affection the news thereof she hath sent me, with a palfry whichI shall ride among you in token of the love I bear her Majesty. She hathin her time got an heir to the throne with which we are ever in kinshipand alliance, and I in my time shall give ye your heart's desire. "

Angele, who had, with palpitating heart and swimming head, seenMichel de la Foret leave the lists and disappear among the trees, asmysteriously as he came, was scarce conscious of the cheers and riotousdelight that followed Elizabeth's tactful if delusive speech to thepeople. A few whispered words from the Duke's Daughter had told her thatMichel had obeyed the Queen's command in entering the lists and takingup the challenge; and that she herself, carrying the royal message tohim and making arrangements for his accoutrement and mounting, had urgedhim to obedience. She observed drily that he had needed little pressure, and that his eyes had lighted at the prospect of the combat. Apartfrom his innate love of fighting, he had realised that in the moment ofdeclining to enter the Queen's service he had been at a disadvantage, and that his courage was open to attack by the incredulous or malicious. This would have mattered little were it not that he had been givenunusual importance as a prisoner by the Queen's personal notice ofhimself. He had, therefore, sprung to the acceptance, and sent hishumble duty to the Queen by her winsome messenger, who, with conspicuousdramatic skill, had arranged secretly, with the help of a GentlemanPensioner and the Master of the Horse, his appearance and his exit. That all succeeded as she had planned quickened her pulses, and madeher heart still warmer to Angele, who, now that all was over, and herHuguenot lover had gone his mysterious ways, seemed lost in a troubledreverie. 

It was a troubled reverie indeed, for Angele's eyes were on the strangerwho was present with Sir Andrew Melvill the night before. Her gaze uponhim now became fixed and insistent, for the sense of foreboding so heavyon her deepened to a torturing suspense. Where had she seen this manbefore? To what day or hour in her past did he belong? What was there inhis smooth, smiling, malicious face that made her blood run cold? As shewatched him, he turned his head. She followed his eyes. The horse whichMary Queen of Scots had sent with the message of the birth of her sonwas being led to the Queen by the dark browed, pale-faced churl who hadbrought it from Scotland. She saw a sharp dark look pass between thetwo. 

Suddenly her sight swam, she swayed and would have fainted, butresolution steadied her, and a low exclamation broke from her lips. Nowshe knew!

The face that had eluded her was at last in the grasp of horrifiedmemory. It was the face of one who many years ago was known to havepoisoned the Due de Chambly by anointing the pommel of his saddle witha delicate poison which the rider would touch, and touching would, perhaps, carry to his nostrils or mouth as he rode, and die upon theinstant. She herself had seen the Due de Chambly fall; had seen this manfly from Paris for his life; and had thereafter known of his return tofavour at the court of Mary and Francis, for nothing could be provedagainst him. The memory flashed like lightning through her brain. Shemoved swiftly forward despite the detaining hand of the Duke's Daughter. The Queen was already mounted, her hand already upon the pommel of thesaddle. 

Elizabeth noted the look of anguished anxiety in Angele's eyes, herface like that of one who had seen souls in purgatory; and some swiftinstinct, born of years upon years of peril in old days when her lifewas no boon to her enemies, made her lean towards the girl, whosequick whispered words were to her as loud as thunder. She was, however, composed and still. Not a tremor passed through her. 

"Your wish is granted, mistress, " she said aloud, then addressed a wordto Cecil at her side, who passed on her command. Presently she turnedslowly to the spot where Sir Andrew Melvill and the other sat upontheir horses. She scanned complacently the faces of both, then her eyessettled steadily on the face of the murderer. Still gazing intently shedrew the back of her gloved fingers along the pommel. The man saw themotion, unnoted and unsignificant to any other save Angele, meaninglesseven to Melvill, the innocent and honest gentleman at his side; and herealised that the Queen had had a warning. Noting the slight stir amongthe gentlemen round him, he knew that his game was foiled, that therewas no escape. He was not prepared for what followed. 

In a voice to be heard only at small distance, the Queen said calmly:

"This palfry sent me by my dear sister of Scotland shall bear me amongyou, friends; and in days to come I will remember how she hath givennew life to me by her loving message. Sir Andrew Melvill, I shall havefurther speech with you; and you, sir, "--speaking to the sinister figureby his side--"come hither. "

The man dismounted, and with unsteady step came forward. Elizabeth heldout her gloved hand for him to kiss. His face turned white. It was comesoon, his punishment. None knew save Angele and the Queen the doom thatwas upon him, if Angele's warning was well-founded. He knelt, and benthis head over her hand. 

"Salute, sir, " she said in a low voice. 

He touched his lips to her fingers. She pressed them swiftly againsthis mouth. An instant, then he rose and stepped backwards to his horse. Tremblingly, blindly, he mounted. 

A moment passed, then Elizabeth rode on with her ladies behind her, hergentlemen beside her. As she passed slowly, the would-be regicide swayedand fell from his horse, and stirred no more. 

Elizabeth rode on, her hand upon the pommel of the saddle. So she rodefor a full half-hour, and came back to her palace. But she raisednot her gloved right hand above the pommel, and she dismounted withexceeding care. 

That night the man who cared for the horse died secretly as had done hismaster, with the Queen's glove pressed to his nostrils by one whom Cecilcould trust. And the matter was hidden from the Court and the people;for it was given out that Melvill's friend had died of some hearttrouble. 

CHAPTER XV

It seemed an unspeakable smallness in a man of such high place in theState, whose hand had tied and untied myriad knots of political andcourt intrigue, that he should stoop to a game which any pettifogginghanger-on might play-and reap scorn in the playing. By insidious arts, Leicester had in his day turned the Queen's mind to his own will; hadfoiled the diplomacy of the Spaniard, the German and the Gaul; had bysubterranean means checkmated the designs of the Medici; had traced hisway through plot and counter-plot, hated by most, loved by none save, maybe, his Royal mistress to whom he was now more a custom than acherished friend. Year upon year he had built up his influence. None hadchampioned him save himself, and even from the consequences of rashnessand folly he had risen to a still higher place in the kingdom. But suchas Leicester are ever at last a sacrifice to the laborious means bywhich they achieve their greatest ends-means contemptible and small. 

To the great intriguers every little detail, every commonplaceinsignificance is used--and must be used by them alone--to further theirdark causes. They cannot trust their projects to brave lieutenants, tofaithful subordinates. They cannot say, "Here is the end; this is thework to be done; upon your shoulders be the burden!" They must "stoop toconquer. " Every miserable detail becomes of moment, until by-and-by theart of intrigue and conspiracy begins to lose proportion in their minds. The detail has ever been so important, conspiracy so much second nature, that they must needs be intriguing and conspiring when the occasion istrifling and the end negligible. 

To all intriguers life has lost romance; there is no poem left innature; no ideal, personal, public or national, detains them in itswholesome influence; no great purpose allures them; they have nocauses for which to die--save themselves. They are so honeycombed withinsincerity and the vice of thought, that by-and-by all colours are asone, all pathways the same; because, whichever hue of light breaks upontheir world they see it through the grey-cloaked mist of falsehood; andwhether the path be good or bad they would still walk in it crookedly. How many men and women Leicester had tracked or lured to their doom;over how many men and women he had stepped to his place of power, history speaks not carefully; but the traces of his deeds run through athousand archives, and they suggest plentiful sacrifices to a subvertedcharacter. 

Favourite of a Queen, he must now stoop to set a trap for the ruin ofas simple a soul as ever stepped upon the soil of England; and his darkpurposes had not even the excuse of necessity on the one hand, of loveor passion on the other. An insane jealousy of the place the girl hadwon in the consideration of the Queen, of her lover who, he thought, hadwon a still higher place in the same influence, was his only motivefor action at first. His cruelty was not redeemed even by the sensuousinterest the girl might arouse in a reckless nature by her beauty andher charm. 

So the great Leicester--the Gipsy, as the dead Sussex had calledhim--lay in wait in Greenwich Park for Angele to pass, like some orchardthief in the blossoming trees. Knowing the path by which she wouldcome to her father's cottage from the palace, he had placed himselfaccordingly. He had thought he might have to wait long or come often forthe perfect opportunity; but it seemed as if Fate played his game forhim, and that once again the fruit he would pluck should fall into hispalm. Bright-eyed, and elated from a long talk with the Duke's Daughter, who had given her a message from the Queen, Angele had abstractedlytaken the wrong path in the wood. Leicester saw that it would lead herinto the maze some distance off. Making a detour, he met her at themoment she discovered her mistake. The light from the royal wordher friend had brought was still in her face; but it was crossed byperplexity now. 

He stood still as though astonished at seeing her, a smile upon hisface. So perfectly did he play his part that she thought the meetingaccidental; and though in her heart she had a fear of the man and knewhow bitter an enemy he was of Michel's, his urbane power, his skilfuldiplomacy of courtesy had its way. These complicated lives, instinctwith contradiction, have the interest of forbidden knowledge. The darkexperiences of life leave their mark and give such natures that touchof mystery which allures even those who have high instincts and truefeelings, as one peeps over a hidden depth and wonders what lies beyondthe dark. So Angele, suddenly arrested, was caught by the sense ofmystery in the man, by the fascination of finesse, of dark power; andit was womanlike that all on an instant she should dream of the soul ofgoodness in things evil. 

Thus in life we are often surprised out of long years of prejudice, andeven of dislike and suspicion, by some fortuitous incident, which mighthave chanced to two who had every impulse towards each other, not suchantagonisms as lay between Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and thisHuguenot refugee. She had every cue to hate hum. Each moment of her lifein England had been beset with peril because of him-peril to the man sheloved, therefore peril to herself. And yet, so various is the nature ofwoman, that, while steering straitly by one star, she levies upon thelight of other stars. Faithful and sincere, yet loving power, curiousand adventurous, she must needs, without intention, without purpose, stray into perilous paths. 

As Leicester stepped suddenly into Angele's gaze, she was only, asit were, conscious of a presence in itself alluring by virtue of thehistory surrounding it. She was surprised out of an instinctive dislike, and the cue she had to loathe him was for the moment lost. 

Unconsciously, unintentionally, she smiled at him now, then, realising, retreated, shrinking from him, her face averted. Man or woman had foundin Leicester the delicate and intrepid gamester, exquisite in the choiceof detail, masterful in the breadth of method. And now, as though hiswhole future depended on this interview, he brought to bear a life-longskill to influence her. He had determined to set the Queen against her. He did not know--not even he--that she had saved the Queen's life onthat auspicious May Day when Harry Lee had fought the white knightMichel de la Foret and halved the honours of the lists with him. Ifhe had but known that the Queen had hid from him this fact--this vitalthing touching herself and England, he would have viewed his futurewith a vaster distrust. But there could be no surer sign of Elizabeth'sgrowing coldness and intended breach than that she had hid from him thedreadful incident of the poisoned glove, and the swift execution of thewould-be murderer, and had made Cecil her only confidant. But he didknow that Elizabeth herself had commanded Michel de la Foret to thelists; and his mad jealousy impelled him to resort to a satanic cunningtowards these two fugitives, who seemed to have mounted within a fewshort days as far as had he in thrice as many years to a high place inthe regard of the Majesty of England. 

To disgrace them both; to sow distrust of the girl in the Queen's mind;to make her seem the opposite of what she was; to drop in her own mindsuspicion of her lover; to drive her to some rash act, some challengeof the Queen herself--that was his plan. He knew how little Elizabeth'simperious spirit would brook any challenge from this fearless girlconcerning De la Foret. But to convince her that the Queen favouredMichel in some shadowed sense, that De la Foret was privy to a darkcompact--so deep a plot was all worthy of a larger end. He had wellinspired the Court of France through its ambassador to urge the Medicito press actively and bitterly for De la Foret's return to France andto the beheading sword that waited for him; and his task had been madelight by international difficulties, which made the heart of Elizabeth'sforeign policy friendship with France and an alliance against Philipof Spain. She had, therefore, opened up, even in the past few days, negotiations once again for the long-talked-of marriage with the Dukeof Anjou, the brother of the King, son of the Medici. State policy wasinvolved, and, if De la Foret might be a counter, the pledge of exchangein the game, as it were, the path would once more be clear. 

He well believed that Elizabeth's notice of De la Foret was but a fancythat would pass, as a hundred times before such fancies had come andgone; but against that brighter prospect there lay the fact that neverbefore had she shown himself such indifference. In the past she hadraged against him, she had imprisoned him; she had driven him fromher presence in her anger, but always her paroxysms of rage had beensucceeded by paroxysms of tenderness. Now he saw a colder light in thesky, a greyer horizon met his eye. So at every corner of the compass heplayed for the breaking of the spell. 

Yet as he now bowed low before Angele there seemed to show in his facea very candour of surprise, of pleasure, joined to a something friendlyand protective in his glance and manner. His voice insinuated thatbygones should be bygones; it suggested that she had misunderstood him. It pleaded against the injustice of her prejudice. 

"So far from home!" he said with a smile. 

"More miles from home, " she replied, thinking of never-returning days inFrance, "than I shall ever count again. "

"But no, methinks the palace is within a whisper, " he responded. 

"Lord Leicester knows well I am a prisoner; that I no longer abide inthe palace, " she answered. 

He laughed lightly. "An imprisonment in a Queen's friendship. I bethinkme, it is three hours since I saw you go to the palace. It is a fewworthless seconds since you have got your freedom. "

She nettled at his tone. "Lord Leicester takes great interest in myunimportant goings and comings. I cannot think it is because I go andcome. "

He chose to misunderstand her meaning. Drawing closer he bent over hershoulder. "Since your arrival here, my only diary is the tally of yourcoming and going. " Suddenly, as though by an impulse of great frankness, he added in a low tone:

"And is it strange that I should follow you--that I should worship graceand virtue? Men call me this and that. You have no doubt been filledwith dark tales of my misdeeds. Has there been one in the Court, evenone, who, living by my bounty or my patronage, has said one good wordof me? And why? For long years the Queen, who, maybe, might have beenbetter counselled, chose me for her friend, adviser--because I was trueto her. I have lived for the Queen, and living for her have lived forEngland. Could I keep--I ask you, could I keep myself blameless in themidst of flattery, intrigue, and conspiracy? I admit that I haveplayed with fiery weapons in my day; and must needs still do so. Theincorruptible cannot exist in the corrupted air of this Court. You havecome here with the light of innocence and truth about you. At first Icould scarce believe that such goodness lived, hardly understood it. Thelight half-blinded and embarrassed; but, at last, I saw! You of all thisCourt have made me see what sort of life I might have lived. You havemade me dream the dreams of youth and high unsullied purpose once again. Was it strange that in the dark pathways of the Court I watched yourfootsteps come and go, carrying radiance with you? No--Leicester haslearned how sombre, sinister, has been his past, by a presence whichis the soul of beauty, of virtue, and of happy truth. Lady, my heart isyours. I worship you. "

Overborne for the moment by the eager, searching eloquence of his words, she had listened bewildered to him. Now she turned upon him with pantingbreath and said:

"My lord, my lord, I will hear no more. You know I love Monsieur dela Foret, for whose sake I am here in England--for whose sake I stillremain. "

"'Tis a labour of love but ill requited, " he answered with suggestion inhis tone. 

"What mean you, my lord?" she asked sharply, a kind of blind agony inher voice; for she felt his meaning, and though she did not believe him, and knew in her soul he slandered, there was a sting, for slander everscorches where it touches. 

"Can you not see?" he said. "May Day--why did the Queen command him tothe lists? Why does she keep him here-in the palace? Why, againstthe will of France, her ally, does she refuse to send him forth? Why, unheeding the laughter of the Court, does she favour this unimportantstranger, brave though he be? Why should she smile upon him?. .. Can younot see, sweet lady?"

"You know well why the Queen detains him here, " she answered calmly now. "In the Queen's understanding with France, exiles who preach thefaith are free from extradition. You heard what the Queen required ofhim--that on Trinity Day he should preach before her, and upon thispreaching should depend his safety. "

"Indeed, so her Majesty said with great humour, " replied Leicester. "Soindeed she said; but when we hide our faces a thin veil suffices. Theman is a soldier--a soldier born. Why should he turn priest now? I prayyou, think again. He was quick of wit; the Queen's meaning was clear tohim; he rose with seeming innocence to the fly, and she landed him atthe first toss. But what is forward bodes no good to you, dear star ofheaven. I have known the Queen for half a lifetime. She has wild whimsand dangerous fancies, fills her hours of leisure with experiences--anartist is the Queen. She means no good to you. "

She had made as if to leave him, though her eyes searched in vain forthe path which she should take; but she now broke in impatiently:

"Poor, unnoted though I am, the Queen of England is my friend, " sheanswered. "What evil could she wish me? From me she has naught to fear. I am not an atom in her world. Did she but lift her finger I am done. But she knows that, humble though I be, I would serve her to my lastbreath; because I know, my Lord Leicester, how many there are who serveher foully, faithlessly; and there should be those by her who wouldserve her singly. "

His eyes half closed, he beat his toe upon the ground. He frowned, asthough he had no wish to hurt her by words which he yet must speak. Withcalculated thought he faltered. 

"Yet do you not think it strange, " he said at last, "that Monsieur de laForet should be within the palace ever, and that you should be banishedfrom the palace? Have you never seen the fly and the spider in the web?Do you not know that they who have the power to bless or ban, to givejoy or withhold it, appear to give when they mean to withhold? God blessus all--how has your innocence involved your judgment!"

She suddenly flushed to the eyes. "I have wit enough, " she said acidly, "to feel that truth which life's experience may not have taught me. It is neither age nor evil that teaches one to judge 'twixt black andwhite. God gives the true divination to human hearts that need. "

It was a contest in which Leicester revelled--simplicity andsingle-mindedness against the multifarious and double-tongued. He hadmade many efforts in his time to conquer argument and prejudice. Whenhe chose, none could be more insinuating or turn the flank of a properargument by more adroit suggestion. He used his power now. 

"You think she means well by you? You think that she, who has a thousandladies of a kingdom at her call, of the best and most beautiful--andeven, " his voice softened, "though you are more beautiful than all, thatbeauty would soften her towards you? When was it Elizabeth loved beauty?When was it that her heart warmed towards those who would love or wed?Did she not imprison me, even in these palace grounds, for one wholeyear because I sought to marry? Has she not a hundred times sent fromher presence women with faces like flowers because they were in contrastto her own? Do you see love blossoming at this Court? God's Son! butshe would keep us all like babes in Eden an' she could, unmated andunloved. "

He drew quickly to her and leant over her, whispering down her shoulder. "Do you think there is any reason why all at once she should change hermind and cherish lovers?"

She looked up at him fearlessly and firmly. 

"In truth, I do. My Lord Leicester, you have lived in the circle ofher good pleasure, near to her noble Majesty, as you say, for half alifetime. Have you not found a reason why now or any time she shouldcherish love and lovers? Ah, no, you have seen her face, you have heardher voice, but you have not known her heart!"

"Ah, opportunity lacked, " he said in irony and with a reminiscentsmile. "I have been busy with State affairs, I have not sat on cushions, listening to royal fingers on the virginals. Still, I ask you, do youthink there is a reason why from her height she should stoop down torescue you or give you any joy? Wherefore should the Queen do aught toserve you? Wherefore should she save your lover?"

It was on Angele's lips to answer, "Because I saved her life on MayDay. " It was on her lips to tell of the poisoned glove, but she onlysmiled, and said:

"But, yes, I think, my lord, there is a reason, and in that reason Ihave faith. "

Leicester saw how firmly she was fixed in her idea, how rooted was hertrust in the Queen's intentions towards her; and he guessed there wassomething hidden which gave her such supreme confidence. 

"If she means to save him, why does she not save him now? Why not endthe business in a day--not stretch it over these long mid-summer weeks?"

"I do not think it strange, " she answered. "He is a political prisoner. Messages must come and go between England and France. Besides, whocalleth for haste? Is it I who have most at stake? It is not the firsttime I have been at Court, my lord. In these high places things areorderly, "--a touch of sarcasm came into her tone, --"life is not a mightyrushing wind, save to those whom vexing passion drives to hasty deeds. "

She made to move on once more, but paused, still not certain of her way. 

"Permit me to show you, " he said with a laugh and a gesture towards apath. "Not that--this is the shorter. I will take you to a turning whichleads straight to your durance--and another which leads elsewhere. "

She could not say no, because she had, in very truth, lost her way, andshe might wander far and be in danger. Also, she had no fear of him. Steeled to danger in the past, she was not timid; but, more than all, the game of words between them had had its fascination. The man himself, by virtue of what he was, had his fascination also. The thing inherentin all her sex, to peep over the hedge, to skirt dangerous fireslightly, to feel the warmth distantly and not be scorched--that wasin her, too; and she lived according to her race and the longpredisposition of the ages. Most women like her--as good as she--havepeeped and stretched out hands to the alluring fire and come safelythrough, wiser and no better. But many, too, bewildered and confusedby what they see--as light from a mirror flashed into the eye halfblinds--have peeped over the hedge and, miscalculating their powerof self-control, have entered in, and returned no more into the quietgarden of unstraying love. 

Leicester quickly put on an air of gravity. "I warn you that danger liesbefore you. If you cross the Queen--and you will cross the Queenwhen you know the truth, as I know it--you will pay a heavy price forrefusing Leicester as your friend. "

She made a protesting motion and seemed about to speak, but suddenly, with a passionate gesture, Leicester added: "Let them go their way. Monsieur de la Foret will be tossed aside before another winter comes. Do you think he can abide here in the midst of plot and intrigue, andhated by the people of the Court? He is doomed. But more, he is unworthyof you; while I can serve you well, and I can love you well. " She shrankaway from him. "No, do not turn from me, for in very truth, Leicester'sheart has been pierced by the inevitable arrow. You think I mean youevil?"

He paused with a sudden impulse continued: "No! no! And if there be asaving grace in marriage, marriage it shall be, if you will but hear me. You shall be my wife--Leicester's wife. As I have mounted to power soI will hold power with you--with you, the brightest spirit that everEngland saw. Worthy of a kingdom with you beside me, I shall win togreater, happier days; and at Kenilworth, where kings and queens havelodged, you shall be ruler. We will leave this Court until Elizabeth, betrayed by those who know not how to serve her, shall send for meagain. Here--the power behind the throne--you and I will sway this realmthrough the aging, sentimental Queen. Listen, and look at me in theeyes--I speak the truth, you read my heart. You think I hated you andhated De la Foret. By all the gods, it's true I hated him, because I sawthat he would come between me and the Queen. A man must have one greatpassion. Life itself must be a passion. Power was my passion--power, not the Queen. You have broken all that down. I yield it all to you--foryour sake and my own. I would steal from life yet before my sun goes toits setting a few years of truth and honesty and clear design. Atheart I am a patriot--a loyal Englishman. Your cause--the cause ofProtestantism--did I not fight for it at Rochelle? Have I not ever urgedthe Queen to spend her revenue for your cause, to send her captains andher men to fight for it?"

She raised her head in interest, and her lips murmured: "Yes, yes, Iknow you did that. "

He saw his advantage and pursued it. "See, I will be honest withyou--honest, at last, as I have wished in vain to be, for honesty wasmisunderstood. It is not so with you--you understand. Dear, light ofwomanhood, I speak the truth now. I have been evil in my day I admitit--evil because I was in the midst of evil. I betrayed because I wasbetrayed; I slew, else I should have been slain. We have had dark daysin England, privy conspiracy and rebellion; and I have had to thread myway through dreadful courses by a thousand blind paths. Would it beno joy to you if I, through your influence, recast my life--remademy policy, renewed my youth--pursuing principle where I have pursuedopportunity? Angele, come to Kenilworth with me. Leave De la Foret tohis fate. The way to happiness is with me. Will you come?"

He had made his great effort. As he spoke he almost himself believedthat he told the truth. Under the spell of his own emotional powerit seemed as though he meant to marry her, as though he could findhappiness in the union. He had almost persuaded himself to be what hewould have her to believe he might be. 

Under the warmth and convincing force of his words her pulses had beatfaster, her heart had throbbed in her throat, her eyes had glistened;but not with that light which they had shed for Michel de la Foret. How different was this man's wooing--its impetuous, audacious, tenderviolence, with that quiet, powerful, almost sacred gravity ofher Camisard lover! It is this difference--the weighty, emotionaldifference--between a desperate passion and a pure love which has everbeen so powerful in twisting the destinies of a moiety of the world tomisery, who otherwise would have stayed contented, inconspicuous andgood. Angele would have been more than human if she had not felt thespell of the ablest intriguer, of the most fascinating diplomatist ofhis day. 

Before he spoke of marriage the thrill--the unconvincing thrill thoughit was--of a perilous temptation was upon her; but the very thing mostmeant to move her only made her shudder; for in her heart of heartsshe knew that he was ineradicably false. To be married to oneconstitutionally untrue would be more terrible a fate for her than to belinked to him in a lighter, more dissoluble a bond. So do the greatesttricksters of this world overdo their part, so play the wrong card whenevery past experience suggests it is the card to play. He knew by thesilence that followed his words, and the slow, steady look she gave him, that she was not won nor on the way to the winning. 

"My lord, " she said at last, and with a courage which steadied heraffrighted and perturbed innocence, "you are eloquent, you are fruitfulof flattery, of those things which have, I doubt not, served you wellin your day. But, if you see your way to a better life, it were well youshould choose one of nobler mould than I. I am not made for sacrifice, to play the missioner and snatch brands from the burning. I have enoughto do to keep my own feet in the ribbon-path of right. You mustlook elsewhere for that guardian influence which is to make of you aparagon. "

"No, no, " he answered sharply, "you think the game not worth thecandle--you doubt me and what I can do for you; my sincerity, my poweryou doubt. "

"Indeed, yes, I doubt both, " she answered gravely, "for you would haveme believe that I have power to lead you. With how small a mind youcredit me! You think, too, that you sway this kingdom; but I know thatyou stand upon a cliff's edge, and that the earth is fraying 'neath yourtread. You dare to think that you have power to drag down with you theman who honours me with--"

"With his love, you'd say. Yet he will leave you fretting out your souluntil the sharp-edged truth cuts your heart in twain. Have you no pride?I care not what you say of me--say your worst, and I will not resent it, for I will still prove that your way lies with me. "

She gave a bitter sigh, and touched her forehead with trembling fingers. "If words could prove it, I had been convinced but now, for they arewell devised, and they have music too; but such a music, my lord, aswould drown the truth in the soul of a woman. Your words allure, but youhave learned the art of words. You yourself--oh, my lord, you who havetasted all the pleasures of this world, could you then have the heart tosteal from one who has so little that little which gives her happiness?"

"You know not what can make you happy--I can teach you that. By God'sSon! but you have wit and intellect and are a match for a prince, notfor a cast off Camisard. I shall ere long be Lord--Lieutenant of theseIsles-of England and Ireland. Come to my nest. We will fly far--ah, youreye brightens, your heart leaps to mine--I feel it now, I--"

"Oh, have done, have done, " she passionately broke in; "I would ratherdie, be torn upon the rack, burnt at the stake, than put my hand inyours! And you do not wish it--you speak but to destroy, not to cherish. While you speak to me I see all those"--she made a gesture as though toput something from her "all those to whom you have spoken as you havedone to me. I hear the myriad falsehoods you have told--one whelmingconfusion. I feel the blindness which has crept upon them--those poorwomen--as you have sown the air with the dust of the passion which youcall love. Oh, you never knew what love meant, my lord! I doubt if, whenyou lay in your mother's arms, you turned to her with love. You neverdid one kindly act for love, no generous thought was ever born in you bylove. Sir, I know it as though it were written in a book; your life hasbeen one long calculation--your sympathy or kindness a calculated thing. Good-nature, emotion you may have had, but never the divine thing bywhich the world is saved. Were there but one little place where thatEden flower might bloom within your heart, you could not seek to ruinthat love which lives in mine and fills it, conquering all the lesserpart of me. I never knew of how much love I was capable until I heardyou speak today. Out of your life's experience, out of all that youhave learned of women good and evil, you--for a selfish, miserablepurpose--would put the gyves upon my wrists, make me a pawn in your darkgame; a pawn which you would lose without a thought as the game went on. 

"If you must fight, my lord, if you must ruin Monsieur de la Foret anda poor Huguenot girl, do it by greater means than this. You have power, you say. Use it then; destroy us, if you will. Send us to the Medici:bring us to the block, murder us--that were no new thing to LordLeicester. But do not stoop to treachery and falsehood to thrust usdown. Oh, you have made me see the depths of shame to-day! But yet, "her voice suddenly changed, a note of plaintive force filled it--"I havelearned much this hour--more than I ever knew. Perhaps it is that wecome to knowledge only through fire and tears. " She smiled sadly. "Isuppose that sometime some day, this page of life would have scorched mysight. Oh, my lord, what was there in me that you dared speak so tome? Was there naught to have stayed your tongue and stemmed the tide inwhich you would engulf me?" He had listened as in a dream at first. Shehad read him as he might read himself, had revealed him with the certaintruth, as none other had done in all his days. He was silent for a longmoment, then raised his hand in protest. 

"You have a strange idea of what makes offence and shame. I offeredyou marriage, " he said complacently. "And when I come to think upon it, after all that you have said, fair Huguenot, I see no cause for railing. You call me this and that; to you I am a liar, a rogue, a cut-throat, what you will; and yet, and yet, I will have my way--I will have my wayin the end. "

"You offered me marriage--and meant it not. Do I not know? Did you relyso little on your compelling powers, my lord, that you must needs resortto that bait? Do you think that you will have your way to-morrow if youhave failed to-day?"

With a quick change of tone and a cold, scornful laugh he rejoined: "Doyou intend to measure swords with me?"

"No, no, my lord, " she answered quietly; "what should one poorunfriended girl do in contest with the Earl of Leicester? But yet, invery truth, I have friends, and in my hour of greatest need I shall goseeking. "

She was thinking of the Queen. He guessed her thought. 

"You will not be so mad, " he said urbanely again. "Of what can youcomplain to the Queen? Tut, tut, you must seek other friends than theMajesty of England!"

"Then, my lord, I will, " she answered bravely. "I will seek the help ofsuch a Friend as fails not when all fails, even He who putteth down themighty from their seats and exalteth the humble. "

"Well, well, if I have not touched your heart, " he answered gallantly, "I at least have touched your wit and intellect. Once more I offer youalliance. Think well before you decline. "

He had no thought that he would succeed, but it was ever his way toreturn to the charge. It had been the secret of his life's success sofar. He had never taken a refusal. He had never believed that when manor woman said no that no was meant; and, if it were meant, he stillbelieved that constant dropping would wear away the stone. He still heldthat persistence was the greatest lever in the world, that unswervingpersistence was the master of opportunity. 

They had now come to two paths in the park leading different ways. 

"This road leads to Kenilworth, this to your prison, " he said with aslow gesture, his eyes fixed upon hers. "I will go to my prison, then, "she said, stepping forward, "and alone, by your leave. "

Leicester was a good sportsman. Though he had been beaten all along theline, he hid his deep chagrin, choked down the rage that was in him. Smiling, he bowed low. 

"I will do myself the honour to visit your prison to-morrow, " he said. 

"My father will welcome you, my lord, " she answered, and, gathering upher skirt, ran down the pathway. 

He stood unmoving, and watched her disappear. "But I shall have my waywith them both, " he said aloud. 

The voice of a singer sounded in the green wood. Half consciouslyLeicester listened. The words came shrilling through the trees:

 "Oh, love, it is a lily flower, (Sing, my captain, sing, my lady!) The sword shall cleave it, Life shall leave it Who shall know the hour? (Sing, my lady, still!)"

Presently the jingling of bells mingled with the song, then a figure inmotley burst upon him. It was the Queen's fool. 

"Brother, well met--most happily met!" he cried. "And why well met, fool?" asked Leicester. "Prithee, my work grows heavy, brother. I seekanother fool for the yoke. Here are my bells for you. I will keep mycap. And so we will work together, fool: you for the morning, I forthe afternoon, and the devil take the night-time! So God be with you, Obligato!"

With a laugh he leaped into the undergrowth, and left Leicester standingwith the bells in his hand. 

CHAPTER XVI

Angele had come to know, as others in like case have ever done, howwretched indeed is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours. She hadsaved the Queen's life upon May Day, and on the evening of that day theQueen had sent for her, had made such high and tender acknowledgmentof her debt as would seem to justify for her perpetual honour. And whatElizabeth said she meant; but in a life set in forests of complicationsand opposing interests the political overlapped the personal in hernature. Thus it was that she had kept the princes of the world dangling, advancing towards marriage with them, retreating suddenly, settingoff one house against the other, allying herself to one European powerto-day, with another to-morrow, her own person and her crown the pawnwith which she played. It was not a beautiful thing in a woman, but itwas what a woman could do; and, denied other powers given to men--as toher father--she resorted to astute but doubtful devices to advance herdiplomacy. Over all was self-infatuation, the bane of princes, the curseof greatness, the source of wide injustice. It was not to be expected, as Leicester had said, that Elizabeth, save for the whim of the moment, would turn aside to confer benefit upon Angele or to keep her in mind, unless constrained to do so for some political reason. 

The girl had charmed the Queen, had, by saving her life, made Englandher long debtor; but Leicester had judged rightly in believing that theQueen might find the debt irksome; that her gratitude would be corrodedby other destructive emotions. It was true that Angele had saved herlife, but Michel had charmed her eye. He had proved himself a moregallant fighter than any in her kingdom; and had done it, as he hadsaid, in her honour. So, as her admiration for Michel grew, her debt toAngele became burdensome; and, despite her will, there stole into hermind the old petulance and smothered anger against beauty and love andmarriage. She could ill bear that one near her person should not becontent to flourish in the light and warmth of her own favour, settingaside all other small affections. So it was that she had sent Angele toher father and kept De la Foret in the palace. Perplexed, troubled bynew developments, the birth of a son to Mary Queen of Scots, the demandof her Parliament that she should marry, the pressure of foreign policywhich compelled her to open up again negotiations for marriage with theDuke of Anjou--all these combined to detach her from the interestshe had suddenly felt in Angele. But, by instinct, she knew also thatLeicester, through jealousy, had increased the complication; and, fretful under the long influence he had had upon her, she steadilylessened intercourse with him. The duel he fought with Lempriere on MayDay came to her ears through the Duke's Daughter, and she seized upon itwith sharp petulance. First she ostentatiously gave housing and careto Lempriere, and went to visit him; then, having refused Leicesteraudience, wrote to him. 

"What is this I hear, " she scrawled upon the paper, "that you haveforced a quarrel with the Lord of Rozel, and have well-ny ta'en hislife! Is swording then your dearest vice that you must urge it on aharmless gentle man, and my visitor? Do you think you hold a charterof freedom for your self-will? Have a care, Leicester, or, by God! youshall know another sword surer than your own. "

The rage of Leicester on receiving this knew no bounds; for though hehad received from Elizabeth stormy letters before, none had had in itthe cold irony of this missive. The cause of it? Desperation seizedhim. With a mad disloyalty he read in every word of Elizabeth's letter, Michel de la Foret, refugee. With madder fury he determined to strikefor the immediate ruin of De la Foret, and Angele with him--for hadshe not thrice repulsed him as though he had been some village captain?After the meeting in the maze he had kept his promise of visiting her"prison. " By every art, and without avail, he had through patient dayssought to gain an influence over her; for he saw that if he could butshow the Queen that the girl was open to his advances, accepted hisprotection, her ruin would be certain--in anger Elizabeth would takerevenge upon both refugees. But however much he succeeded with MonsieurAubert, he failed wholly with Angele. She repulsed him still with themost certain courtesy, with the greatest outward composure; but she hadto make her fight alone, for the Queen forbade intercourse with Michel, and she must have despaired but for the messages sent now and then bythe Duke's Daughter. 

Through M. Aubert, to whom Leicester was diligently courteous, and whomhe sought daily, discussing piously the question of religion so dear tothe old man's heart, he strove to foster in Angele's mind the suspicionhe had ventured at their meeting in the maze, that the Queen, throughpersonal interest in Michel, was saving his life to keep him in herhousehold. So well did he work on the old man's feelings that when heoffered his own protection to M. Aubert and Angele, whatever the issuewith De la Foret might be, he was met with an almost tearful response ofgratitude. It was the moment to convey a deep distrust of De la Foret tothe mind of the old refugee, and it was subtly done. 

Were it not better to leave the Court where only danger surrounded them, and find safety on Leicester's own estate, where no man living couldmolest them? Were it not well to leave Michel de la Foret to his fate, what ever it would be? Thrice within a week the Queen had sent for Dela Foret--what reason was there for that, unless the Queen had a secretpersonal interest in him? Did M. Aubert think it was only a rare touchof humour which had turned De la Foret into a preacher, and set his fateupon a sermon to be preached before the Court? He himself had long heldhigh office, had been near to her Majesty, and he could speak with moreknowledge than he might use--it grieved him that Mademoiselle Aubertshould be placed in so painful a position. 

Sometimes as the two talked Angele would join them; and then there wasa sudden silence, which made her flush with embarrassment, anxiety oranger. In vain did she assume a cold composure, in vain school herselfto treat Leicester with a precise courtesy; in vain her heart protestedthe goodness of De la Foret and high uprightness of the Queen; thepersistent suggestions of the dark Earl worked upon her mind in spite ofall. Why had the Queen forbidden her to meet Michel, or write to him, or to receive letters from him? Why had the Queen, who had spoken suchgratitude, deserted her? And now even the Duke's Daughter wrote to herno more, sent her no further messages. She felt herself a prisoner, andthat the Queen had forgotten her debt. She took to wandering to thatpart of the palace-grounds where she could see the windows of the towerher lover inhabited. Her old habit of cheerful talk deserted her, and she brooded. It was long before she heard of the duel between theSeigneur and Lord Leicester--the Duke's Daughter had kept this from her, lest she should be unduly troubled--and when, in anxiety, she went tothe house where Lempriere had been quartered, he had gone, none couldtell her whither. Buonespoir was now in close confinement, by secretorders of Leicester, and not allowed to walk abroad; and thus with nofriend save her father, now so much under the influence of the Earl, shewas bitterly solitary. Bravely she fought the growing care and suspicionin her heart; but she was being tried beyond her strength. Her fatherhad urged her to make personal appeal to the Queen; and at times, despite her better judgment, she was on the verge of doing so. Yet whatcould she say? She could not go to the Queen of England and cry out, like a silly milk-maid: "You have taken my lover--give him back to me!"What proof had she that the Queen wanted her lover? And if she spoke, the impertinence of the suggestion might send back to the fierce Medicithat same lover, to lose his head. 

Leicester, who now was playing the game as though it were a hazard forstates and kingdoms, read the increasing trouble in her face; andwaited confidently for the moment when in desperation she would lose herself-control and go to the Queen. 

But he did not reckon with the depth of the girl's nature and her truesense of life. Her brain told her that what she was tempted to do sheshould not; that her only way was to wait; to trust that the Queenof England was as much true woman as Queen, and as much Queen astrue woman; and that the one was held in high equipoise by the other. Besides, Trinity Day would bring the end of it all, and that was not faroff. She steeled her will to wait till then, no matter how dark the skymight be. 

As time went on, Leicester became impatient. He had not been ableto induce M. Aubert to compel Angele to accept a quiet refuge atKenilworth; he saw that this plan would not work, and he deployed hismind upon another. If he could but get Angele to seek De la Foret inhis apartment in the palace, and then bring the matter to Elizabeth'sknowledge with sure proof, De la Foret's doom would be sealed. At greatexpense, however; for, in order to make the scheme effective, Angeleshould visit De la Foret at night. This would mean the ruin of the girlas well. Still that could be set right; because, once De la Foret wassent to the Medici the girl's character could be cleared; and, if not, so much the surer would she come at last to his protection. What he hadprofessed in cold deliberation had become in some sense a fact. She hadroused in him an eager passion. He might even dare, when De la Foret wasgone, to confess his own action in the matter to the Queen, once she wasagain within his influence. She had forgiven him more than that in thepast, when he had made his own mad devotion to herself excuse for hisrashness or misconduct. 

He waited opportunity, he arranged all details carefully, he secured thepassive agents of his purpose; and when the right day came he acted. 

About ten o'clock one night, a half-hour before the closing of thepalace gates, when no one could go in or go out save by permit of theLord Chamberlain, a footman from a surgeon of the palace came to Angele, bearing a note which read:

 "Your friend is very ill, and asks for you. Come hither alone; and now, if you would come at all. "

Her father was confined to bed with some ailment of the hour, andasleep--it were no good to awaken him. Her mind was at once made up. There was no time to ask permission of the Queen. She knew the surgeon'smessengers by sight, this one was in the usual livery, and his master'sname was duly signed. In haste she made herself ready, and went forthinto the night with the messenger, her heart beating hard, a pitifulanxiety shaking her. Her steps were fleet between the lodge and thepalace. They were challenged nowhere, and the surgeon's servant, entering a side door of the palace, led her hastily through gloomy hallsand passages where they met no one, though once in a dark corridor someone brushed against her. She wondered why there were no servants toshow the way, why the footman carried no torch or candle; but haste andurgency seemed due excuse, and she thought only of Michel, and that shewould soon see him-dying, dead perhaps before she could touch his hand!At last they emerged into a lighter and larger hallway, where her guidesuddenly paused, and said to Angel, motioning towards a door: "Enter. Heis there. "

For a moment she stood still, scarce able to breathe, her heart hurt herso. It seemed to her as though life itself was arrested. As the servant, without further words, turned and left her, she knocked, opened the doorwithout awaiting a reply, and stepping into semidarkness, said softly:

"Michel! Michel!"

CHAPTER XVII

At Angle's entrance a form slowly raised itself on a couch, and a voice, not Michel's, said: "Mademoiselle--by our Lady, 'tis she!"

It was the voice of the Seigneur of Rozel, and Angle started backamazed. 

"You, Monsieur--you!" she gasped. "It was you that sent for me?"

"Send? Not I--I have not lost my manners yet. Rozel at Court is nogreater fool than Lempriere in Jersey. "

Angle wrung her hands. "I thought it De la Foret who was ill. Thesurgeon said to come quickly. " Lempriere braced himself against thewall, for he was weak, and his fever still high. "Ill?--not he. As soundin body and soul as any man in England. That is a friend, that De laForet lover of yours, or I'm no butler to the Queen. He gets leave andbrings me here and coaxes me back to life again--with not a wink ofsleep for him these five days past till now. "

Angel had drawn nearer, and now stood beside the couch, trembling andfearful, for it came to her mind that she had been made the victim ofsome foul device. The letter had read: "Your friend is ill. " True, theSeigneur was her friend, but he had not sent for her. 

"Where is De la Foret?" she asked quickly. "Yonder, asleep, " saidthe Seigneur, pointing to a curtain which divided the room from oneadjoining. Angel ran quickly towards the door, then stopped short. No, she would not waken him. She would go back at once. She would leave thepalace by the way she came. Without a word she turned and went towardsthe door opening into the hallway. With her hand upon the latch shestopped short again; for she realised that she did not know her waythrough the passages and corridors, and that she must make herself knownto the servants of the palace to obtain guidance and exit. As she stoodhelpless and confused, the Seigneur called hoarsely: "De la Foret--De laForet!" Before Angele could decide upon her course, the curtain of theother room was thrust aside, and De la Foret entered. He was scarceawake, and he yawned contentedly. He did not see Angele, but turnedtowards Lempriere. For once the Seigneur had a burst of inspiration. Hesaw that Angele was in the shadow, and that De la Foret had not observedher. He determined that the lovers should meet alone. 

"Your arm, De la Foret, " he grunted. 

"I'll get me to the bed in yonder room--'tis easier than this couch. "

"Two hours ago you could not bear the bed, and must get you to thecouch--and now! Seigneur, do you know the weight you are?" he added, laughing, as he stooped, and helping Lempriere gently to his feet, raised him slowly in his arms and went heavily with him to the bedroom. Angele watched him with a strange thrill of timid admiration anddelight. Surely it could not be that Michel--her Michel--could be boughtfrom his allegiance by any influence on earth. There was the same oldsimple laugh on his lips, as, with chaffing words, he carried the hugeSeigneur to the other room. Her heart acquitted him then and there ofall blame, past or to come. 

"Michel!" she said aloud involuntarily--the call of her spirit whichspoke on her lips against her will. 

De la Foret had helped Lempriere to the bed again as he heard his namecalled, and he stood suddenly still, looking straight before him intospace. Angele's voice seemed ghostly and unreal. 

"Michel!" he heard again, and he came forward into the room where shewas. Yet once again she said the word scarcely above a whisper, for thelook of rapt wonder and apprehension in his manner overcame her. Now heturned towards her, where she stood in the shadow by the door. Hesaw her, but even yet he did not stir, for she seemed to him still anapparition. 

With a little cry she came forward to him. "Michel--help me!" shemurmured, and stretched out her hands. With a cry of joy he took her inhis arms and pressed her to his heart. Then a realisation of danger cameto him. 

"Why did you come?" he asked. 

She told him hastily. He heard with astonishment, and then said: "Thereis some foul trick here. Have you the message?" She handed it to him. "It is the surgeon's writing, verily, " he said; "but it is still atrick, for the sick man here is Rozel. I see it all. You and I forbiddento meet--it was a trick to bring you here. "

"Oh, let me go!" she cried. "Michel, Michel, take me hence. " She turnedtowards the door. 

"The gates are closed, " he said, as a cannon boomed on the evening air. 

Angele trembled violently. "Oh, what will come of this?" she cried, intearful despair. 

"Be patient, sweet, and let me think, " he answered. At that moment therecame a knocking at the door, then it was thrown open, and there steppedinside the Earl of Leicester, preceded by a page bearing a torch. 

"Is Michel de la Foret within?" he called; then stopped short, as thoughastonished, seeing Angele. "So! so!" he said, with a contemptuous laugh. Michel de la Foret's fingers twitched. He quickly stepped in front ofAngele, and answered: "What is your business here, my lord?"

Leicester languorously took off a glove, and seemed to stifle a yawn init; then said: "I came to take you into my service, to urge upon youfor your own sake to join my troops, going upon duty in the North; for Ifear that if you stay here the Queen Mother of France will have herway. But I fear I am too late. A man who has sworn himself into serviced'amour has no time for service de la guerre. "

"I will gladly give an hour from any service I may follow to teach theEarl of Leicester that he is less a swordsman than a trickster. "

Leicester flushed, but answered coolly: "I can understand your chagrin. You should have locked your door. It is the safer custom. " He bowedlightly towards Angele. "You have not learned our English habitsof discretion, Monsieur de la Foret. I would only do you service. I appreciate your choler. I should be no less indignant. So, in thecircumstances, I will see that the gates are opened, of course you didnot realise the flight of time, --and I will take Mademoiselle toher lodgings. You may rely on my discretion. I am wholly at yourservice--tout a vous, as who should say in your charming language. "

The insolence was so veiled in perfect outward courtesy that it musthave seemed impossible for De la Foret to reply in terms equal to themoment. He had, however, no need to reply, for the door of the roomsuddenly opened, and two pages stepped inside with torches. 

They were followed by a gentleman in scarlet and gold, who said, "TheQueen!" and stepped aside. 

An instant afterwards Elizabeth, with the Duke's Daughter, entered. 

The three dropped upon their knees, and Elizabeth waved without thepages and the gentleman-in-waiting. When the doors closed, the Queeneyed the three kneeling figures, and as her glance fell on Leicester astrange glitter came into her eyes. She motioned all to rise, and with ahand upon the arm of the Duke's Daughter, said to Leicester:

"What brings the Earl of Leicester here?"

"I came to urge upon Monsieur the wisdom of holding to the Sword andleaving the Book to the butter-fingered religious. Your Majesty needsgood soldiers. "

He bowed, but not low, and it was clear he was bent upon a struggle. He was confounded by the Queen's presence, he could not guess why sheshould have come; and that she was prepared for what she saw was clear. 

"And brought an eloquent pleader with you?" She made a scornful gesturetowards Angele. 

"Nay, your Majesty; the lady's zeal outran my own, and crossed thethreshold first. "

The Queen's face wore a look that Leicester had never seen on it before, and he had observed it in many moods. 

"You found the lady here, then?"

"With Monsieur alone. Seeing she was placed unfortunately, I offered toescort her hence to her father. But your Majesty came upon the moment. "

There was a ring of triumph in Leicester's voice. No doubt, by somechance, the Queen had become aware of Angele's presence, he thought. Fate had forestalled the letter he had already written on this matterand meant to send her within the hour. Chance had played into his handswith perfect suavity. The Queen, less woman now than Queen, enragedby the information got he knew not how, had come at once to punish thegross breach of her orders and a dark misconduct-so he thought. 

The Queen's look, as she turned it on Angele, apparently had in it whatmust have struck terror to even a braver soul than that of the helplessHuguenot girl. 

"So it is thus you spend the hours of night? God's faith, but you areyoung to be so wanton!" she cried in a sharp voice. "Get you from mysight and out of my kingdom as fast as horse and ship may carry you--asfeet may bear you. " Leicester's face lighted to hear. "Your highMajesty, " pleaded the girl, dropping on her knees, "I am innocent. AsGod lives, I am innocent. "

"The man, then, only is guilty?" the Queen rejoined with scorn. "Isit innocent to be here at night, my palace gates shut, with yourlover-alone?" Leicester laughed at the words. 

"Your Majesty, oh, your gracious Majesty, hear me. We were notalone--not alone--"

There was a rustle of curtains, a heavy footstep, and Lempriere of Rozelstaggered into the room. De la Foret ran to help him, and throwingan arm around him, almost carried him towards the couch. Lempriere, however, slipped from De la Foret's grasp to his knees on the floorbefore the Queen. 

"Not alone, your high and sacred Majesty, I am here--I have been herethrough all. I was here when Mademoiselle came, brought hither by trickof some knave not fit to be your immortal Majesty's subject. I speak thetruth, for I am butler to your Majesty and no liar. I am Lempriere ofRozel. "

No man's self-control could meet such a surprise without wavering. Leicester was confounded, for he had not known that Lempriere was housedwith De la Foret. For a moment he could do naught but gaze at Lempriere. Then, as the Seigneur suddenly swayed and would have fallen, theinstinct of effective courtesy, strong in him, sent him with armsoutstretched to lift him up. Together, without a word, he and De laForet carried him to the couch and laid him down. That single act savedLeicester's life. There was something so naturally (though, in truth, it was so hypocritically) kind in the way he sprang to his enemy'sassistance that an old spirit of fondness stirred in the Queen's breast, and she looked strangely at him. When, however, they had disposed ofLempriere and Leicester had turned again towards her, she said: "Did youthink I had no loyal and true gentlemen at my Court, my lord? Did youthink my leech would not serve me as fair as he would serve the Earl ofLeicester? You have not bought us all, Robert Dudley, who have boughtand sold so long. The good leech did your bidding and sent your noteto the lady; but there your bad play ended and Fate's began. A rabbit'sbrains, Leicester--and a rabbit's end. Fate has the brains you need. "

Leicester's anger burst forth now under the lash of ridicule. "I cannothope to win when your Majesty plays Fate in caricature. "

With a little gasp of rage Elizabeth leaned over and slapped his facewith her long glove. "Death of my life, but I who made you do unmakeyou!" she cried. 

He dropped his hand on his sword. "If you were but a man, and not--" hesaid, then stopped short, for there was that in the Queen's face whichchanged his purpose. Anger was shaking her, but there were tears in hereyes. The woman in her was stronger than the Queen. It was nothing toher at this moment that she might have his life as easily as she hadstruck his face with her glove; this man had once shown the better partof himself to her, and the memory of it shamed her for his own sake now. She made a step towards the door, then turned and spoke:

"My Lord, I have no palace and no ground wherein your footstep will notbe trespass. Pray you, remember. "

She turned towards Lempriere, who lay on his couch faint and panting. "For you, my Lord of Rozel, I wish you better health, though you havelost it somewhat in a good cause. "

Her glance fell on De la Foret. Her look softened. "I will hear youpreach next Sunday, sir. "

There was an instant's pause, and then she said to Angele, with graciouslook and in a low voice: "You have heard from me that calumny which theinnocent never escape. To try you I neglected you these many days; tosee your nature even more truly than I knew it, I accused you but now. You might have been challenged first by one who could do you more harmthan Elizabeth of England, whose office is to do good, not evil. Netsare spread for those whose hearts are simple, and your feet have beencaught. Be thankful that we understand; and know that Elizabeth is yourloving friend. You have had trials--I have kept you in suspense--therehas been trouble for us all; but we are better now; our minds are morecontent; so all may be well, please God! You will rest this night withour lady-dove here, and to-morrow early you shall return in peace toyour father. You have a good friend in our cousin. " She made a gentlemotion towards the Duke's Daughter. "She has proved it so. In my leechshe has a slave. To her you owe this help in time of need. She hathwisdom, too, and we must listen to her, even as I have done this day. "

She inclined her head towards the door. Leicester opened it, and as shepassed out she gave him one look which told him that his game was lost, if not for ever, yet for time uncertain and remote. "You must not blamethe leech, my lord, " she said, suddenly turning back. "The Queen ofEngland has first claim on the duty of her subjects. They serve me forlove; you they help at need as time-servers. "

She stepped on, then paused again and looked back. "Also I forbidfighting betwixt you, " she said, in a loud voice, looking at De la Foretand Leicester. 

Without further sign or look, she moved on. Close behind came Angele andthe Duke's Daughter, and Leicester followed at some distance. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Not far from the palace, in a secluded place hidden by laburnum, roses, box and rhododendrons, there was a quaint and beautiful retreat. Highup on all sides of a circle of green the flowering trees and shrubsinterlaced their branches, and the grass, as smooth as velvet, was ofsuch a note as soothed the eye and quieted the senses. In one segmentof the verdant circle was a sort of open bower made of poles, up whichroses climbed and hung across in gay festoons; and in two other segmentsmossy banks made resting-places. Here, in days gone by, when RobertDudley, Earl of Leicester, first drew the eyes of his Queen upon him, Elizabeth came to listen to his vows of allegiance, which swam in floodsof passionate devotion to her person. Christopher Hatton, Sir Henry Lee, the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Sussex, a race of gallants, had kneltupon this pleasant sward. Here they had declared a devotion that, historically platonic, had a personal passion which, if rewarded by nopersonal requital, must have been an expensive outlay of patience andemotion. 

But those days had gone. Robert Dudley had advanced far past hisfellows, had locked himself into the chamber of the Queen's confidence, had for long proved himself necessary to her, had mingled deference andadmiration with an air of monopoly, and had then advanced to an air ofpossession, of suggested control. Then had begun his decline. Englandand England's Queen could have but one ruler, and upon an occasion inthe past Elizabeth made it clear by the words she used: "God's death, myLord, I have wished you well; but my favour is not so locked up for youthat others shall not partake thereof; and, if you think to rule here, I will take a course to see you forthcoming. I will have here but onemistress and no master. "

In these words she but declared what was the practice of her life, thepersistent passion of her rule. The world could have but one sun, andevery man or woman who sought its warmth must be a sun-worshipper. Therecould be no divided faith, no luminaries in the sky save those whichlived by borrowed radiance. 

Here in this bright theatre of green and roses poets had sung thepraises of this Queen to her unblushing and approving face; here ladiesthrice as beautiful as she had begged her to tell them the secret ofher beauty, so much greater than that of any living woman; and she waspleased even when she knew they flattered but to gain her smile--it wasthe tribute that power exacts. The place was a cenotaph of past romanceand pleasure. Every leaf of every tree and flower had impressions ofglories, of love, ambition and intrigue, of tears and laughter, ofjoyousness and ruin. Never a spot in England where so much had been saidand done, so far reaching in effect and influence. But its glory wasdeparted, its day was done, it was a place of dreams and memories: theQueen came here no more. Many years had withered since she had enteredthis charmed spot; and that it remained so fine was but evidence of thecare of those to whom she had given strict orders seven years past, thatin and out of season it must be ever kept as it had erstwhile been. Shehad never entered the place since the day the young Marquis of Wessex, whom she had imprisoned for marrying secretly and without her consent, on his release came here, and, with a concentrated bitterness and hate, had told her such truths as she never had heard from man or woman sinceshe was born. He had impeached her in such cold and murderous terms asmust have made wince even a woman with no pride. To Elizabeth it wasgall and wormwood. When he at last demanded the life of the young wifewho had died in enforced seclusion, because she had married the manshe loved, Elizabeth was so confounded that she hastily left the place, saying no word in response. This attack had been so violent, so deadly, that she had seemed unnerved, and forbore to command him to the Tower orto death. 

"You, in whose breast love never stirred, deny the right to others whomGod blessed with it, " he cried. "Envious of mortal happiness that dareexist outside your will or gift, you sunder and destroy. You, in whosehands was power to give joy, gave death. What you have sown you shallreap. Here on this spot I charge you with high treason, with treacheryto the people over whom you have power as a trust, which trust you havemade a scourge. "

With such words as these he had assailed her, and for the first time inher life she had been confounded. In safety he had left the place, andtaken his way to Italy, from which he had never returned, though shehad sent for him in kindness. Since that day Elizabeth had never comehither; and by-and-by none of her Court came save the Duke's Daughter, and her fool, who both made it their resort. Here the fool came upon theFriday before Trinity Day, bringing with him Lempriere and Buonespoir, to whom he had much attached himself. 

It was a day of light and warmth, and the place was like a basket ofroses. Having seen the two serving-men dispose, in a convenient place, the refreshment which Lempriere's appetite compelled, the fool tookcommand of the occasion and made the two sit upon a bank, while heprepared the repast. 

Strangest of the notable trio was the dwarfish fool with his shaggyblack head, twisted mouth, and watchful, wandering eye, whosefoolishness was but the flaunting cover of shrewd observation andtrenchant vision. Going where he would, and saying what he listed, now in the Queen's inner chamber, then in the midst of the Council, unconsidered, and the butt of all, he paid for his bed and bounty byshooting shafts of foolery which as often made his listeners shrinkas caused their laughter. The Queen he called Delicio, and Leicester, Obligato--as one who piped to another's dance. He had taken toBuonespoir at the first glance, and had frequented him, and Lemprierehad presently been added to his favour. He had again and again beenmessenger between them, as also of late between Angele and Michel, whosecase he viewed from a stand-point of great cheerfulness, and treatedthem as children playing on the sands--as, indeed, he did the Queen andall near to her. But Buonespoir, the pirate, was to him reality and theactual, and he called him Bono Publico. At first Lempriere, everjealous of his importance, was inclined to treat him with elephantinecondescension; but he could not long hold out against the boon archnessof the jester, and he collapsed suddenly into as close a friendship asthat between himself and Buonespoir. 

A rollicking spirt was his own fullest stock-in-trade, and it won himlike a brother. 

So it was that here, in the very bosom of the forest, lured by the pipethe fool played, Lempriere burst forth into song, in one hand a bottleof canary, in the other a handful of comfits:

 "Duke William was a Norman (Spread the sail to the breeze!) That did to England ride; At Hastings by the Channel (Drink the wine to the lees!) Our Harold the Saxon died. If there be no cakes from Normandy, There'll be more ale in England!"

"Well sung, nobility, and well said, " cried Buonespoir, with a rose bythe stem in his mouth, one hand beating time to the music, the otherclutching a flagon of muscadella; "for the Normans are kings in England, and there's drink in plenty at the Court of our Lady Duchess. "

"Delicio shall never want while I have a penny of hers to spend, " quoththe fool, feeling for another tune. "Should conspirators prevail, andthe damnedest be, she hath yet the Manor of Rozel and my larder, " urgedLempriere, with a splutter through the canary. 

"That shall be only when the Fifth wind comes--it is so ordained, Nuncio!" said the fool blinking. Buonespoir set down his flagon. "Andwhat wind is the Fifth wind?" he asked, scratching his bullethead, hischild-like, widespread eyes smiling the question. 

"There be now four winds--the North wind and his sisters, the East, theWest, and South. When God sends a Fifth wind, then conspirators shallwear crowns. Till then Delicio shall sow and I shall reap, as isHeaven's will. "

Lempriere lay back and roared with laughter. "Before Belial, there neverwas such another as thou, fool. Conspirators shall die and not prevail, for a man may not marry his sister, and the North wind shall have noprogeny. So there shall be no Fifth wind. "

"Proved, proved, " cried the fool. "The North wind shall go whistle for amate--there shall be no Fifth wind. So, Delicio shall still sail by thecompass, and shall still compass all, and yet be compassed by none; forit is written, Who compasseth Delicio existeth not. "

Buonespoir watched a lark soaring, as though its flight might leadhim through the fool's argument clearly. Lempriere closed his eye, andstruggled with it, his lips outpursed, his head sunk on his breast. Suddenly his eyes opened, he brought the bottle of canary down witha thud on the turf. "'Fore Michael and all angels, I have it, fool;I travel, I conceive. De Carteret of St. Ouen's must have gone to theblock ere conceiving so. I must conceive thus of the argument. He whocompasseth the Queen existeth not, for compassing, he dieth. "

"So it is by the hour-glass and the fortune told in the porringer. Youhave conceived like a man, Nuncio. "

"And conspirators, I conceive, must die, so long as there be honest mento slay them, " rejoined the Seigneur. 

"Must only honest men slay conspirators? Oh, Shadrach, Meshach, andAbednego!" wheezed Buonespoir with a grin. He placed his hand uponhis head in self-pity. "Buonespoir, art thou damned by muscadella?" hemurmured. 

"But thou art purged of the past, Bono Publico, " answered the fool. "Since Delicio hath looked upon thee she hath shredded the Tyburn lienupon thee--thou art flushed like a mountain spring; and conspiratorsshall fall down by thee if thou, passant, dost fall by conspiratorsin the way. Bono Publico, thou shalt live by good company. Henceforthcontraband shall be spurned and the book of grace opened. "

Buonespoir's eyes laughed like a summer sky, but he scratched his headand turned over the rose-stem in his mouth reflectively. "So be it, then, if it must be; but yesterday the Devon sea-sweeper, Francis Drake, overhauled me in my cottage, coming from the Queen, who had infusedhim of me. 'I have heard of you from a high masthead, ' said he. 'If theSpanish main allure you, come with me. There be galleons yonder still;they shall cough up doubloons. ' 'It hath a sound of piracy, ' said I. 'I am expurgated. My name is written on clean paper now, blessed be thename of the Queen!' 'Tut, tut, Buonesperado, ' laughed he, 'you shallforget that Tyburn is not a fable if you care to have doubloons remintedat the Queen's mint. It is meet Spanish Philip's head be molted tooblivion, and Elizabeth's raised, so that good silver be purged ofPopish alloy. ' But that I had sworn by the little finger of St. Peterwhen the moon was full, never to leave the English seas, I also wouldhave gone with Drake of Devon this day. It is a man and a master of menthat Drake of Devon. "

"'Tis said that when a man hath naught left but life, and hath treatedhis honour like a poor relation, he goes to the Spanish main with Drakeand Grenville, " said Lempriere. 

"Then must Obligato go, for he hath such credentials, " said the fool, blowing thistle-down in the air. "Yesterday was no Palm Sunday toLeicester. Delicio's head was high. 'Imperial Majesty, ' quoth Obligato, his knees upon the rushes, 'take my life but send me not forth intodarkness where I shall see my Queen no more. By the light of my Queen'seyes have I walked, and pains of hell are my Queen's displeasure. ''Methinks thy humbleness is tardy, ' quoth Delicio. 'No cock shall crowby my nest, ' said she. 'And, by the mantle of Elijah, I am out with sourfaces and men of phlegm and rheum. I will be gay once more. So get theegone to Kenilworth, and stray not from it on thy peril. Take thy malaisewith thee, and I shall laugh again. ' Behold he goeth. So that was theend of Obligato, and now cometh another tune. "

"She hath good cheer?" asked Lempriere eagerly. "I have never seenDelicio smile these seven years as she smiled to-day; and when shekissed Amicitia I sent for my confessor and made my will. Delicio hathcome to spring-time, and the voice of the turtle is in her ear. "

"Amicitia--and who is Amicitia?" asked Lempriere, well flushed withwine. 

"She who hath brought Obligato to the diminuendo and finale, " answeredthe fool; "even she who hath befriended the Huguenottine of the blackeyes. "

"Ah, she, the Duke's Daughter--v'la, that is a flower of a lady! Didshe not say that my jerkin fitted neatly when I did act as butler to heradorable Majesty three months syne? She hath no mate in the world saveMademoiselle Aubert, whom I brought hither to honour and to fame. "

"To honour and fame, was it--but by the hill of desperandum, Nuncio, "said the fool, prodding him with his stick of bells. 

"'Desperandum'! I know not Latin; it amazes me, " said Lempriere, wavinga lofty hand. 

"She--the Huguenottine--was a-mazed also, and from the maze was playedby Obligato. "

"How so! how so!" cried the Seigneur, catching at his meaning. "DidLeicester waylay and siege? 'Sblood, had I known this, I'd have broachedhim and swallowed him even on crutches. "

"She made him raise the siege, she turned his own guns upon him, and inthe end hath driven him hence. " By rough questioning Lempriere got fromthe fool by snatches the story of the meeting in the maze, which hadleft Leicester standing with the jester's ribboned bells in his hand. Then the Seigneur got to his feet, and hugged the fool, bubbling withlaughter. 

"By all the blood of all the saints, I will give thee burial in myown grave when all's done, " he spluttered; "for there never was suchfooling, never such a wise fool come since Confucius and the Khan. Goodbe with you, fool, and thanks be for such a lady. Thanks be also for theDuke's Daughter. Ah, how she laid Leicester out! She washed him up theshore like behemoth, and left him gaping. "

Buonespoir intervened. "And what shall come of it? What shall be theend? The Honeyflower lies at anchor--there be three good men in waiting, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, and--"

The Seigneur interrupted. "There's little longer waiting. All's well!Her high hereditary Majesty smiled on me when she gave Leicester congeand fiery quittance. She hath me in favour, and all shall be well withMichel and Angele. O fool, fool, fantastic and flavoured fool, sing mea song of good content, for if this business ends not with crescendo andbell-ringing, I am no butler to the Queen nor keep good company!"

Seating themselves upon the mossy bank, their backs to the westward sun, the fool peered into the green shadows and sang with a soft melancholyan ancient song that another fool had sung to the first Tudor:

 "When blows the wind and drives the sleet, And all the trees droop down; When all the world is sad, 'tis meet Good company be known: And in my heart good company Sits by the fire and sings to me. 

 "When warriors return, and one That went returns no more; When dusty is the road we run, And garners have no store; One ingle-nook right warm shall be Where my heart hath good company. 

 "When man shall flee and woman fail, And folly mock and hope deceive, Let cowards beat the breast and wail, I'll homeward hie; I will not grieve: I'll draw the blind, I'll there set free My heart's beloved boon company. 

 "When kings shall favour, ladies call My service to their side; When roses grow upon the wall Of life, with love inside; I'll get me home with joy to be In my heart's own good company!"

"Oh, fool, oh, beneficent fool, well done! 'Tis a song for aman--'twould shame De Carteret of St. Ouen's to his knees, " criedLempriere. 

"Oh, benignant fool, well done! 'twould draw me from my meals, " said avoice behind the three; and, turning hastily about, they saw, smilingand applausive, the Duke's Daughter. Beside her was Angele. 

The three got to their feet, and each made obeisance after hiskind-Buonespoir ducking awkwardly, his blue eyes bulging with pleasure, Lempriere swelling with vanity and spreading wide acknowledgment oftheir presence, the fool condescending a wave of welcome. "Oh! abundantAmicitia!" cried the fool to the Duke's Daughter, "thou art saved by sodoing. So get thee to thanksgiving and God's mercy. "

"Wherefore am I saved by being drawn from my meals by thy music, fool?"she asked, linking her arm in Angele's. 

"Because thou art more enamoured of lampreys than of man; and it iswritten that thou shalt love thy fellow man, and he that loveth not islost: therefore thou art lost if thou lingerest at meals. "

"Is it so, then? And this lady--what thinkest thou? Must she alsoabstain and seek good company?"

"No, verily, Amicitia, for she is good company itself, and so she maysleep in the larder and have no fear. "

"And what think you--shall she be happy? Shall she have gifts of fate?"

"Discriminately so, Amicitia. She shall have souvenirs and no suspicionsof Fate. But she shall not linger here, for all lingerers in Delicio'sCourt are spied upon--not for their soul's good. She shall go hence, and--"

"Ay, princely lady, she shall go hence, " interposed Lempriere, who hadpanted to speak, and could bear silence no longer. "Her high Majestywill kiss her on the brow, and in Jersey Isle she shall blossomand bloom and know bounty--or never more shall I have privilege andperquage. "

He lumbered forward and kissed Angele's hand as though conferringdistinction, but with great generosity. "I said that all should go well, and so it shall. Rozel shall prevail. The Queen knows on what rock tobuild, as I made warrant for her, and will still do so. "

His vanity was incorrigible, but through it ran so child-like a spiritthat it bred friendship and repulsed not. The Duke's Daughter pressedthe arm of Angele, who replied:

"Indeed it has been so according to your word, and we are--I am--shallever be beholden. In storm you have been with us, so true a pilot and sobrave a sailor; and if we come to port and the quiet shore, there shallbe spread a feast of remembrance which shall never grow cold, Seigneur. "

 "One ingle-nook right warm shall be Where my heart hath good company, "

sang the fool, and catching by the arm Buonespoir, who ducked his headin farewell, ran him into the greenwood. Angele came forward as if tostay Buonespoir, but stopped short reflectively. As she did so, theDuke's Daughter whispered quickly into Lempriere's ear. 

Swelling with pride he nodded, and said: "I will reach him and discovermyself to him, and bring him, if he stray, most undoubted and infalliblelady, " and with an air of mystery he made a heavily respectful exit. 

Left alone, the two ladies seated themselves in the bower of roses, andfor a moment were silent. Presently the Duke's Daughter laughed aloud. 

"In what seas of dear conceit swims your leviathan Seigneur, heart's-ease?"

Angele stole a hand into the cool palm of the other. "He was builded forsome lonely sea all his own. Creation cheated him. But God give me eversuch friends as he, and I shall indeed 'have good company' and fear noissue. " She sighed. 

"Remains there still a fear? Did you not have good promise in theQueen's words that night?"

"Ay, so it seemed, and so it seemed before--on May Day, and yet--"

"And yet she banished you, and tried you, and kept you heart-sick?Sweet, know you not how bitter a thing it is to owe a debt of love toone whom we have injured? So it was with her. The Queen is not a saint, but very woman. Marriage she hath ever contemned and hated; men she hathdesired to keep her faithful and impassioned servitors. So does powerblind us. And the braver the man, the more she would have him in herservice, at her feet, the centre of the world. "

"I had served her in a crisis, an hour of peril. Was naught due me?"

The Duke's Daughter drew her close. "She never meant but that all shouldbe well. And because you had fastened on her feelings as never I haveseen another of your sex, so for the moment she resented it; and becauseDe la Foret was yours--ah, if you had each been naught to the other, howeasy it would have run! Do you not understand?"

"Nay, then, and yea, then--and I put it from me. See, am I not happynow? Upon your friendship I build. "

"Sweet, I did what I could. Leicester filled her ears with poison everyday, mixed up your business and great affairs with France, soughtto convey that you both were not what you are; until at last Icountermarched him. " She laughed merrily. "Ay, I can laugh now, but itwas all hanging by a thread, when my leech sent his letter that broughtyou to the palace. It had grieved me that I might not seek you, orwrite to you in all those sad days; but the only way to save you was bykeeping the Queen's command; for she had known of Leicester's visits toyou, of your meeting in the maze, and she was set upon it that alone, all alone, you should be tried to the last vestige of your strength. Ifyou had failed--"

"If I had failed--" Angele closed her eyes and shuddered. "I had notcared for myself, but Michel--"

"If you had failed, there had been no need to grieve for Michel. He thenhad not grieved for thee. But see, the wind blows fair, and in my heartI have no fear of the end. You shall go hence in peace. This morning theQueen was happier than I have seen her these many years: a light was inher eye brighter than showeth to the Court. She talked of this place, recalled the hours spent here, spoke even softly of Leicester. And thatgives me warrant for the future. She has relief in his banishment, andonly recalls older and happier days when, if her cares were no greater, they were borne by the buoyancy of girlhood and youth. Of days spenthere she talked until mine own eyes went blind. She said it was a placefor lovers, and if she knew any two lovers who were true lovers, and hadbeen long parted, she would send them here. "

"There be two true lovers, and they have been long parted, " murmuredAngele. 

"But she commanded these lovers not to meet till Trinity Day, and shebrooks not disobedience even in herself. How could she disobey her owncommands? But"--her eyes were on the greenwood and the path that ledinto the circle--"but she would shut her eyes to-day, and let the worldmove on without her, let lovers thrive, and birds be nesting withoutheed or hap. Disobedience shall thrive when the Queen connives atit--and so I leave you to your disobedience, sweet. "

With a laugh she sprang to her feet, and ran. Amazed and bewilderedAngele gazed after her. As she stood looking she heard her name calledsoftly. 

Turning, she saw Michel. They were alone. 

CHAPTER XIX

When De la Foret and Angele saw the Queen again it was in the royalchapel. 

Perhaps the longest five minutes of M. De la Foret's life were those inwhich he waited the coming of the Queen on that Trinity Sunday whichwas to decide his fate. When he saw Elizabeth enter the chapel his eyesswam, till the sight of them was lost in the blur of colour made bythe motions of gorgeously apparelled courtiers and the people of thehousehold. When the Queen had taken her seat and all was quiet, hestruggled with himself to put on such a front of simple boldness as hewould wear upon day of battle. The sword the Queen had given him was athis side, and his garb was still that of a gentleman, not of a Huguenotminister such as Elizabeth in her grim humour, and to satisfy her bondwith France, would make of him this day. 

The brown of his face had paled in the weeks spent in the palace andin waiting for this hour; anxiety had toned the ruddy vigour of hisbearing; but his figure was the figure of a soldier, and his hand thatof a strong man. He shook a little as he bowed to her Majesty, but thatpassed, and when at last his eye met that of the Duke's Daughter hegrew steady; for she gave him as plainly as though her tongue spoke, amessage from Angele. Angele herself he did not see--she was kneelingin an obscure corner, her father's hand in hers, all the passion of herlife pouring out in prayer. 

De la Foret drew himself up with an iron will. No nobler figure of aman ever essayed to preach the Word, and so Elizabeth thought; and sherepented of the bitter humour which had set this trial as his chanceof life in England and his freedom from the hand of Catherine. The manbulked larger in her eyes than he had ever done, and she struggled withherself to keep the vow she had made to the Duke's Daughter the nightthat Angele had been found in De la Foret's rooms. He had been theimmediate cause, fated or accidental, of the destined breach betweenLeicester and herself; he had played a significant part in her own life. Glancing at her courtiers, she saw that none might compare with him, theform and being of calm boldness and courage. She sighed she knew scarcewhy. 

When De la Foret first opened his mouth and essayed to call theworshippers to prayer, no words came forth--only a dry whisper. Someladies simpered, and more than one courtier laughed silently. Michelsaw, and his face flamed up. But he laid a hand on himself, and a momentafterwards his voice came forth, clear, musical, and resonant, speakingsimple words, direct and unlacquered sentences, passionately earnestwithal. He stilled the people to a unison of sentiment, none the lessinterested and absorbed because it was known that he had been the causeof the great breach between the Queen and the favourite. Ere he hadspoken far, flippant gallants had ceased to flutter handkerchiefs, tomove their swords idly upon the floor. 

He took for his text: "Stand and search for the old paths. " Thebeginning of all systems of religion, the coming of the Nazarene, therise and growth of Christianity, the martyrdoms of the early church, theinvasion of the truth by false doctrine, the abuses of the Church, theReformation, the martyrdom of the Huguenots for the return to the earlyprinciples of Christianity, the "search for the old paths, " he set forthin a tone generous but not fiery, presently powerful and searching, yetnot declamatory. At the last he raised the sword that hung by his side, and the Book that lay before him, and said:

"And what matter which it is we wield--this steel that strikes forGod, or this Book which speaks of Him? For the Book is the sword of theSpirit, and the sword is the life of humanity; for all faith mustbe fought for, and all that is has been won by strife. But the pathswherein ye go to battle must be the old paths; your sword shall be yourstaff by day, and the Book your lantern by night. That which ye love yeshall teach, and that which ye teach ye shall defend; and if your lovebe a true love your teaching shall be a great teaching, and your sworda strong sword which none may withstand. It shall be the pride ofsovereign and of people; and so neither 'height, nor depth, nor anyother creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God. '"

Ere he had ended, some of the ladies were overcome, the eyes of theDuke's Daughter were full of tears, and Elizabeth said audibly, when heceased speaking: "On my soul, I have no bishop with a tongue like his. Would that my Lord of Ely were here to learn how truth should be spoke. Henceforth my bishops shall first be Camisards. "

Of that hour's joyful business the Queen wrote thus to the Medici beforethe day was done:

Cancelling all other letters on the matter, this M. De la Foret shallstay in my kingdom. I may not be the headsman of one of my faith--aseloquent a preacher as he was a brave soldier. Abiding by the strictterms of our treaty with my brother of France, he shall stay with us inpeace, and in our own care. He hath not the eloquence of a Knox, but hehath the true thing in him, and that speaks. 

To the Duke's Daughter the Queen said: "On my soul, he shall be marriedinstantly, or my ladies will carry him off and murder him for love. "

And so it was that the heart of Elizabeth the Queen warmed again anddearly towards two Huguenot exiles, and showed that in doing justiceshe also had not so sour a heart towards her sex as was set down toher credit. Yet she made one further effort to keep De la Foret in herservice. When Michel, once again, declined, dwelt earnestly on his dutytowards the widow of his dead chief, and begged leave to share her exilein Jersey, Elizabeth said: "On my soul, but I did not think there wasany man on earth so careless of princes' honours!"

To this De la Foret replied that he had given his heart and life to onecause, and since Montgomery had lost all, even life, the least Michelde la Foret could do was to see that the woman who loved him be notunprotected in the world. Also, since he might not at this presentfight for the cause, he could speak for it; and he thanked the Queenof England for having shown him his duty. All that he desired was to bequiet for a space somewhere in "her high Majesty's good realm, " till hisway was clear to him. 

"You would return to Jersey, then, with our friend of Rozel?" Elizabethsaid, with a gesture towards Lempriere, who, now recovered from hiswound, was present at the audience. 

De la Foret inclined his head. "If it be your high Majesty's pleasure. "

And Lempriere of Rozel said: "He would return with myself your nobleMajesty's friend before all the world, and Buonespoir his ship theHoneyflower. "

Elizabeth's lips parted in a smile, for she was warmed with the luxuryof doing good, and she answered:

"I know not what the end of this will be, whether our loyal Lemprierewill become a pirate or Buonespoir a butler to my Court; but it is toopretty a hazard to forego in a world of chance. By the rood, but I havenever, since I sat on my father's throne, seen black so white as I havedone this past three months. You shall have your Buonespoir, good Rozel;but if he plays pirate any more--tell him this from his Queen--upon anEnglish ship, I will have his head, if I must needs send Drake of Devonto overhaul him. "

That same hour the Queen sent for Angele, and by no leave, save herown, arranged the wedding-day, and ordained that it should take place atSouthampton, whither the Comtesse de Montgomery had come on her wayto Greenwich to plead for the life of Michel de la Foret, and to begElizabeth to relieve her poverty. Both of which things Elizabeth did, asthe annals of her life record. 

After Elizabeth--ever self-willed--had declared her way about themarriage ceremony, looking for no reply save that of silent obedience, she made Angele sit at her feet and tell her whole story again fromfirst to last. They were alone, and Elizabeth showed to this youngrefugee more of her own heart than any other woman had ever seen. Not bywords alone, for she made no long story; but once she stooped and kissedAngele upon the cheek, and once her eyes filled up with tears, and theydropped upon her lap unheeded. All the devotion shown herself as a womanhad come to naught; and it may be that this thought stirred in her now. She remembered how Leicester and herself had parted, and how she wasdenied all those soft resources of regret which were the right ofthe meanest women in her realm. For, whatever she might say to herParliament and people, she knew that all was too late--that she wouldnever marry and that she must go childless and uncomforted to her grave. Years upon years of delusion of her people, of sacrifice to policy, hadat last become a self-delusion, to which her eyes were not full openedyet--she sought to shut them tight. But these refugees, coming at themoment of her own struggle, had changed her heart from an ever-growingbitterness to human sympathy. When Angele had ended her tale once more, the Queen said:

"God knows, ye shall not linger in my Court. Such lives have no placehere. Get you back to my Isle of Jersey, where ye may live in peace. Here all is noise, self-seeking and time-service. If ye twain are nothappy I will say the world should never have been made. "

Before they left Greenwich Palace--M. Aubert and Angele, De la Foret, Lempriere, and Buonespoir--the Queen made Michel de la Foret the gift ofa chaplaincy to the Crown. To Monsieur Aubert she gave a small pension, and in Angele's hands she placed a deed of dower worthy of a generositygreater than her own. 

At Southampton, Michel and Angele were married by royal license, andwith the Comtesse de Montgomery set sail in Buonespoir's boat, theHoneyflower, which brought them safe to St. Helier's, in the Isle ofJersey. 

CHAPTER XX

Followed several happy years for Michel and Angele. The protectionof the Queen herself, the chaplaincy she had given De la Foret, thefriendship with the Governor of the island; and the boisterous talesLempriere had told of those days at Greenwich Palace quickened thesympathy and held the interest of the people at large; while the simplelives of the two won their way into the hearts of all, even, at last, tothat of De Carteret of St. Ouen's. It was Angele herself who brought thetwo Seigneurs together at her own good table; and it needed all her tacton that occasion to prevent the ancient foes from drinking all the winein her cellar. 

There was no parish in Jersey that did not know their goodness, butmostly in the parishes of St. Martin's and Rozel were their faithfullabours done. From all parts of the island people came to hear Michelspeak, though that was but seldom; and when he spoke he always wore thesword the Queen had given him, and used the Book he had studied in herpalace. It was to their home that Buonespoir the pirate--faithful tohis promise to the Queen that he would harry English ships no more camewounded, after an engagement with a French boat sent to capture him, carried thither by Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. It was there hedied, after having drunk a bottle of St. Ouen's muscadella, broughtsecretly to him by his unchanging friend, Lempriere, so hastening theend. 

The Comtesse de Montgomery, who lived in a cottage near by, cameconstantly to the little house on the hillside by Rozel Bay. She hadnever loved her own children more than she did the brown-haired childwith the deep-blue eyes, which was the one pledge of the great happinessof Michel and Angele. 

Soon after this child was born, M. Aubert had been put to rest in St. Martin's churchyard, and there his tombstone might be seen so late asa hundred years ago. So things went softly by for seven years, and thenMadame de Montgomery journeyed to England, on invitation of the Queenand to better fortune, and Angele and De la Foret were left to theirquiet life in Jersey. Sometimes this quiet was broken by bitter newsfrom France, of fresh persecution, and fresh struggle on the part of theHuguenots. Thereafter for hours, sometimes for days, De la Foret wouldbe lost in sorrowful and restless meditation; and then he frettedagainst his peaceful calling and his uneventful life. But the gracioushand of his wife and the eyes of his child led him back to cheerful waysagain. 

Suddenly one day came the fearful news from England that the plague hadbroken out, and that thousands were dying. The flight from Londonwas like the flight of the children of Israel into the desert. Thedead-carts filled with decaying bodies rattled through the foul streets, to drop their horrid burdens into the great pit at Aldgate; the bellsof London tolled all day and all night for the passing of human souls. Hundreds of homes, isolated because of a victim of the plague foundtherein, became ghastly breeding-places of the disease, and thensilent, disgusting graves. If a man shivered in fear, or staggered fromweakness, or for very hunger turned sick, he was marked as a victim, anddespite his protests was huddled away with the real victims to die theawful death. From every church, where clergy were left to pray, went upthe cry for salvation from "plague, pestilence, and famine. " Scores ofships from Holland and from France lay in the Channel, not allowed totouch the shores of England, nor permitted to return whence they came. On the very day that news of this reached Jersey, came a messenger fromthe Queen of England for Michel de la Foret to hasten to her Courtfor that she had need of him, and it was a need which would bring himhonour. Even as the young officer who brought the letter handed it toDe la Foret in the little house on the hill-side above Rozel Bay, he wastaken suddenly ill, and fell at the Camisard's feet. 

De la Foret straightway raised him in his arms. He called to his wife, but, bidding her not come near, he bore the doomed man away to thelonely Ecrehos Rocks lying within sight of their own doorway. Sufferingno one to accompany him, he carried the sick man to the boat which hadbrought the Queen's messenger to Rozel Bay. The sailors of the vesselfled, and alone De la Foret set sail for the Ecrehos. 

There upon the black rocks the young man died, and Michel buried him inthe shore-bed of the Maitre Ile. Then, after two days--for he could bearsuspense no longer--he set sail for Jersey. Upon that journey thereis no need to dwell. Any that hath ever loved a woman and a child mustunderstand. A deep fear held him all the way, and when he stepped onshore at Rozel Bay he was as one who had come from the grave, haggardand old. 

Hurrying up the hillside to his doorway, he called aloud to his wife, tohis child. Throwing open the door, he burst in. His dead child lay upona couch, and near by, sitting in a chair, with the sweat of the dying onher brow, was Angele. As he dropped on his knee beside her, she smiledand raised her hand as if to touch him, but the hand dropped and thehead fell forward on his breast. She was gone into a greater peace. 

Once more Michel made a journey-alone--to the Ecrehos, and there, underthe ruins of the old Abbey of Val Richer, he buried the twain he hadloved. Not once in all the terrible hours had he shed a tear; not oncehad his hand trembled; his face was like stone, and his eyes burned withan unearthly light. 

He did not pray beside the graves; but he knelt and kissed the earthagain and again. He had doffed his robes of peace, and now wore thegarb of a soldier, armed at all points fully. Rising from his knees, heturned his face towards Jersey. 

"Only mine! Only mine!" he said aloud in a dry, bitter voice. 

In the whole island, only his loved ones had died of the plague. Theholiness and charity and love of Michel and Angele had ended so!

When once more he set forth upon the Channel, he turned his back onJersey and shaped his course towards France, having sent Elizabeth hislast excuses for declining a service which would have given him honour, fame and regard. He was bent upon a higher duty. 

Not long did he wait for the death he craved. Next year, in a Huguenotsortie from Anvers, he was slain. He died with these words on his lips:

"Maintenant, Angele!"

In due time the island people forgot them both, but the Seigneur ofRozel caused a stone to be set up on the highest point of land thatfaces France, and on the stone were carved the names of Michel andAngele. Having done much hard service for his country and for England'sQueen, Lempriere at length hung up his sword and gave his years topeace. From the Manor of Rozel he was wont to repair constantly to thelittle white house, which remained as the two had left it, --his own byorder of the Queen, --and there, as time went on, he spent most of hisdays. To the last he roared with laughter if ever the name of Buonespoirwas mentioned in his presence; he swaggered ever before the Royal Courtand De Carteret of St. Ouen's; and he spoke proudly of his friendshipwith the Duke's Daughter, who had admired the cut of his jerkin at theCourt of Elizabeth. But in the house where Angele had lived he movedabout as though in the presence of a beloved sleeper he would not awake. 

Michel and Angele had had their few years of exquisite life and love, and had gone; Lempriere had longer measure of life and little love, andwho shall say which had more profit of breath and being? The generationshave passed away, and the Angel of Equity hath a smiling pity as shescans the scales and the weighing of the Past. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 Boldness without rashness, and hope without vain thinking Each of us will prove himself a fool given perfect opportunity Never believed that when man or woman said no that no was meant No note of praise could be pitched too high for Elizabeth Nothing is futile that is right Religion to him was a dull recreation invented chiefly for women She had never stooped to conquer Slander ever scorches where it touches