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 insidiousarts, Leicester had in his day turned the Queen's mind to his ownwill; had foiled the diplomacy of the Spaniard, the German, and theGaul; had by subterranean means checkmated the designs of the Medici;had traced his way through plot and counter-plot, hated by most,loved by none save, maybe, his royal mistress, to whom he was nowmore a custom than a beloved friend. Year upon year he had built uphis influence. None had championed him save himself, and even fromthe consequences of rashness and folly he had risen to a still higherplace in the kingdom. But such as Leicester are ever at last asacrifice to the laborious means by which they achieve their greatestends--means contemptible and small.
To the great intriguers every little detail, every commonplaceinsignificance is used--and must be used by them alone--to furthertheir dark causes. They cannot trust their projects to bravelieutenants, to faithful subordinates. They cannot say, "Here is theend; this is the work to be done; upon your shoulders be the burden!"They must "stoop to conquer." Every miserable detail becomes ofmoment, until by-and-by the art of intrigue and conspiracy begins tolose proportion in their minds. The detail has ever been soimportant, conspiracy so much second nature, that they must needs beintriguing and conspiring when the occasion is trifling and the endnegligible.
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 honeycombedwith insincerity and the vice of thought that by-and-by all colorsare as one, all pathways the same; because, whichever hue of lightbreaks upon their world they see it through the gray-cloaked mist offalsehood; and whether the path be good or bad they would still walkin it crookedly. How many men and women Leicester had tracked orlured to their doom; over how many men and women he had stepped tohis place of power, history speaks not carefully; but the traces ofhis deeds run through a thousand archives, and they suggest plentifulsacrifices to a subverted character.
Favorite 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 hisdark purposes had not even the excuse of necessity on the one hand,of love or passion on the other. An insane jealousy of the place thegirl had won in the consideration of the Queen, of her lover who, hethought, had won a still higher place in the same influence, was hisonly motive for action at first. His cruelty was not redeemed even bythe sensuous interest the girl might arouse in a reckless nature byher beauty and her charm.
So the great Leicester--the Gypsy, as the dead Sussex had calledhim--lay in wait in Greenwich Park for Angele to pass, like someorchard-thief in the blossoming trees. Knowing the path by which shewould come to her father's cottage from the palace, he had placedhimself accordingly. He had thought he might have to wait long orcome often for the perfect opportunity; but it seemed as if fateplayed his game for him, and that once again the fruit he would pluckshould fall into his palm. Bright-eyed, and elated from a long talkwith the Duke's Daughter, who had given her a message from the Queen,Angele had abstractedly taken the wrong path in the wood. Leicestersaw that it would lead her into the maze some distance off. Making adetour, he met her at the moment she discovered her mistake. Thelight from the royal word her friend had brought was still in herface; but it was crossed by perplexity 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, andknew how bitter an enemy he was of Michel's, his urbane power, hisskilful diplomacy of courtesy had its way. These complicated lives,instinct with contradiction, have the interest of forbiddenknowledge. The dark experiences of life leave their mark, and givesuch natures that touch of mystery which allures even those who havehigh instincts and true feelings, as one peeps over a hidden depthand wonders what lies beyond the dark. So Angele, suddenly arrested,was caught by the sense of mystery in the man, by the fascination of_finesse_, of dark power; and it was womanlike that all on an instantshe should dream of the soul of goodness in things evil.
Thus in life we are often surprised out of long years of prejudice,and even of dislike and suspicion, by some fortuitous incident, whichmight have chanced to two who had every impulse towards each other,not such antagonisms as lay between Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester,and this Huguenot refugee. She had every cue to hate him. Each momentof her life in England had been beset with peril because ofhim--peril to the man she loved, therefore peril to herself. And yet,so various is the nature of woman that, while steering straitly byone star, she levies upon the light of other stars. Faithful andsincere, yet loving power, curious and adventurous, she must needs,without intention, without purpose, stray into perilous paths.
As Leicester stepped suddenly into Angele's gaze, she was only, as itwere, conscious of a presence in itself alluring by virtue of thehistory surrounding it. She was surprised out of an instinctivedislike, and the cue she had to loathe him was for the moment lost.
Unconsciously, unintentionally, she smiled at him now, then,realizing, retreated, shrinking from him, her face averted. Man orwoman had found in Leicester the delicate and intrepid gamester,exquisite in the choice of detail, masterful in the breadth ofmethod. And now, as though his whole future depended on thisinterview, he brought to bear a life-long skill to influence her. Hehad determined to set the Queen against her. He did not know--noteven he--that she had saved the Queen's life on that auspicious MayDay when Harry Lee had fought the white knight, Michel de la Foret,and halved the honors of the lists with him. If he had but known thatthe Queen had hid from him this fact--this vital thing touchingherself and England--he would have viewed his future with a vasterdistrust. But there could be no surer sign of Elizabeth's growingcoldness and intended breach than that she had hid from him thedreadful incident of the poisoned glove and the swift execution ofthe would-be murderer, and had made Cecil her only confidant. But hedid know that Elizabeth herself had commanded Michel de la Foret tothe lists; and his mad jealousy impelled him to resort to a sataniccunning towards these two fugitives, who seemed to have mountedwithin a few short days as far as had he in thrice as many years to ahigh place in the regard of the Majesty of England.
To disgrace them both, to sow distrust of the girl in the Queen'smind; to make her seem the opposite of what she was; to drop in herown mind suspicion of her lover; to drive her to some rash act, somechallenge of the Queen herself--that was his plan. He knew how littleElizabeth's imperious spirit would brook any challenge from thisfearless girl concerning De la Foret. But to convince her that theQueen favored Michel in some shadowed sense, that De la Foret wasprivy to a dark compact--so deep a plot was all worthy of a largerend. He had well inspired the court of France through its ambassadorto urge the Medici to press actively and bitterly for De la Foret'sreturn to France, and to the beheading sword that waited for him;and his task had been made light by international difficulties, whichmade the heart of Elizabeth's foreign policy friendship with Franceand an alliance against Philip of Spain. She had, therefore, openedup, even in the past few days, negotiations once again for thelong-talked-of marriage with the Duke of Anjou, the brother of theKing, son of the Medici. State policy was involved, and, if De laForet might be a counter, the pledge of exchange in the game, as itwere, the path would once more be clear.
He well believed that Elizabeth's notice of De la Foret was but afancy that would pass, as a hundred times before such fancies hadcome and gone; but against that brighter prospect there lay the factthat never before had she shown himself such indifference. In thepast she had raged against him, she had imprisoned him, she haddriven him from her presence in her anger, but always her paroxysms
of rage had been succeeded by paroxysms of tenderness. Now he saw acolder light in the sky, a grayer horizon met his eye. So at everycorner of the compass he played for the breaking of the spell.
Yet as he now bowed low before Angele there seemed to show in hisface a very candor of surprise, of pleasure, joined to a somethingfriendly and protective in his glance and manner. His voiceinsinuated that by-gones should be by-gones; it suggested that shehad misunderstood him. It pleaded against the injustice of herprejudice.
"So far from home!" he said, with a smile.
"More miles from home," she replied, thinking of never-returning daysin France, "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. Ibethink me, it is three hours since I saw you go to the palace. It isa few worthless 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 overher shoulder. "Since your arrival here my only diary is the tally ofyour coming and going." Suddenly, as though by an impulse of greatfrankness, he added, in a low tone:
"And is it strange that I should follow you--that I should worshipgrace and virtue? Men call me this and that. You have no doubt beenfilled with dark tales of my misdeeds. Has there been one in thecourt, even one, who, living by my bounty or my patronage, has saidone good word of me? And why? For long years the Queen, who, maybe,might have been better counselled, chose me for her friend,adviser--because I was true to her. I have lived for the Queen, andliving for her have lived for England. Could I keep--I ask you, couldI keep myself blameless in the midst of flattery, intrigue, andconspiracy? I admit that I have played with fiery weapons in my day,and must needs still do so. The incorruptible cannot exist in thecorrupted air of this court. You have come here with the light ofinnocence and truth about you. At first I could scarce believe thatsuch goodness lived, hardly understood it. The light half-blinded andembarrassed; but at last I saw! You of all this court have made mesee what sort of life I might have lived. You have made me dream thedreams of youth and high, unsullied purpose once again. Was itstrange 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 heartis yours. I worship you."
Overborne for the moment by the eager, searching eloquence of hiswords, she had listened bewildered to him. Now she turned upon himwith panting breath, 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 Istill remain."
"'Tis a labor of love but ill requited," he answered, with suggestionin his tone.
"What mean you, my lord?" she asked, sharply, a kind of blind agonyin her voice; for she felt his meaning, and though she did notbelieve him, and knew in her soul he slandered, there was a sting,for slander ever scorches where it touches.
"Can you not see?" he said. "May Day--why did the Queen command himto the 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 favor this unimportantstranger, brave though he be? Why should she smile upon him?... Canyou not see, sweet lady?"
"You know well why the Queen detains him here," she answered, calmlynow. "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 humor," replied Leicester."So, indeed, she said; but when we hide our faces a thin veilsuffices. The man is a soldier--a soldier born. Why should he turnpriest now? I pray you, think again. He was quick of wit; the Queen'smeaning was clear to him; he rose with seeming innocence to the fly,and she landed him at the first toss. But what is forward bodes nogood to you, dear star of heaven. I have known the Queen for half alifetime. She has wild whims and dangerous fancies, fills her hoursof leisure with experiences--an artist is the Queen. She means nogood 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 tofear. I am not an atom in her world. Did she but lift her finger Iam done. But she knows that, humble though I be, I would serve her tomy last breath; because I know, my Lord Leicester, how many there arewho serve her foully, faithlessly, and there should be those by herwho would serve 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.With calculated thought he faltered.
"Yet do you not think it strange," he said, at last, "that Monsieurde la Foret should be within the palace ever, and that you should bebanished from the palace? Have you never seen the fly and the spiderin the web? Do you not know that they who have the power to bless orban, to give joy or withhold it, appear to give when they mean towithhold? God bless us all--how has your innocence involved yourjudgment!"
She suddenly flushed to the eyes. "I have wit enough," she said,acidly, "to feel that truth which life's experience may not havetaught me. It is neither age nor evil that teaches one to judge'twixt black and white. God gives the true divination to human heartsthat 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 aproper argument by adroit suggestion. He used his power now.
"You think she means well by you? You think that she, who has athousand ladies of a kingdom at her call, of the best and mostbeautiful--and even," his voice softened, "though you are morebeautiful than all, that beauty would soften her towards you? Whenwas it Elizabeth loved beauty? When was it that her heart warmedtowards those who would love or wed? Did she not imprison me, even inthese palace grounds, for one whole year because I sought to marry?Has she not a hundred times sent from her presence women with faceslike flowers because they were in contrast to her own? Do you seelove blossoming at this court? God's Son! but she would keep us alllike babes in Eden and she could, unmated and unloved."
He drew quickly to her and leaned over her, whispering down hershoulder. "Do you think there is any reason why all at once sheshould change her mind 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 haveheard her 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 oncushions, listening to royal fingers on the virginals. Still, I askyou, do you think there is a reason why from her height she shouldstoop down to rescue you or give you any joy? Wherefore should theQueen do aught to serve 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 washer trust in
the Queen's intentions towards her; and he guessed therewas something 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 midsummerweeks?"
"I do not think it strange," she answered. "He is a politicalprisoner. Messages must come and go between England and France.Besides, who calleth for haste? Is it I who have most at stake? It isnot the first time I have been at court, my lord. In these highplaces things are orderly"--a touch of sarcasm came into hertone--"life is not a mighty rushing wind save to those whom vexingpassion drives to hasty deeds."
She made to move on once more, but paused, still not certain of herway.
"Permit me to show you," he said, with a laugh and a gesture towardsa path. "Not that--this is the shorter. I will take you to a turningwhich leads straight to your durance--and another which leadselsewhere!"
She could not say no, because she had, in very truth, lost her way,and she might wander far and be in danger. Also, she had no fear ofhim. Steeled to danger in the past, she was not timid; but, more thanall, the game of words between them had had its fascination. The manhimself, by virtue of what he was, had his fascination also. Thething inherent in all her sex, to peep over the hedge, to skirtdangerous fires lightly, to feel the warmth distantly and not bescorched--that was in her, too, and she lived according to her raceand the long predisposition of the ages. Most women like her--asgood as she--have peeped and stretched out hands to the alluring fireand come safely through, wiser and no better. But many, too,bewildered and confused by what they see--as light from a mirrorflashed into the eye half blinds--have peeped over the hedge and,miscalculating their power of self-control, have entered in, andreturned no more into the quiet garden of unstraying love.
Leicester quickly put on an air of gravity. "I warn you that dangerlies before 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 wintercomes. Do you think he can abide here in the midst of plot andintrigue and hated by the people of the court? He is doomed. Butmore, he is unworthy of you; while I can serve you well, and I canlove you well." She shrank away from him. "No, do not turn from me,for, in very truth, Leicester's heart has been pierced by theinevitable arrow. You think I mean you evil?"
He paused as though uncertain how to proceed, then with a suddenimpulse continued: "No! no! And if there be a saving grace inmarriage, marriage it shall be, if you will but hear me. You shall bemy wife--Leicester's wife. As I have mounted to power, so I will holdpower with you--with you, the brightest spirit that ever England saw.Worthy of a kingdom with you beside me, I shall win to greater,happier days; and at Kenilworth, where kings and queens have lodged,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 thisrealm through the aging, sentimental Queen. Listen, and look at me inthe eyes--I speak the truth, you read my heart. You think I hatedyou and hated De la Foret. By all the gods! it's true I hated him,because I saw that he would come between me and the Queen. A man musthave one great passion. Life itself must be a passion. Power was mypassion--power, not the Queen. You have broken all that down. I yieldit all to you--for your sake and my own. I would steal from life yetbefore my sun goes to its setting a few years of truth and honestyand clear design. At heart I am a patriot--a loyal Englishman. Yourcause--the cause of Protestantism--did I not fight for it atRochelle? Have I not ever urged the Queen to spend her revenue foryour cause, to send her captains and her men to fight for it?"
She raised her head in interest, and her lips murmured, "Ah, 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. Ah, light ofwomanhood, I speak the truth now. I have been evil in my day--Iadmit it--evil because I was in the midst of evil. I betrayed becauseI was betrayed; I slew else I should have been slain. We have haddark days in England, privy conspiracy and rebellion; and I have hadto thread my way through dreadful courses by a thousand blind paths.Would it be no joy to you if I, through your influence, recast mylife--remade my policy, renewed my youth--pursuing principle where Ihave pursued opportunity? Angele, come to Kenilworth with me. LeaveDe la Foret to his fate. The way to happiness is with me. Will youcome?"
He had made his great effort. As he spoke he almost himself believedthat he told the truth. Under the spell of his own emotional power itseemed 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 hadbeat faster, her heart had throbbed in her throat, her eyes hadglistened; but not with that light which they had shed for Michel dela Foret. How different was this man's wooing--its impetuous,audacious, tender violence, with that quiet, powerful, almost sacredgravity of her Camisard lover! It is this difference--the weighty,emotional difference--between a desperate passion and a pure lovewhich has ever been so powerful in twisting the destinies of a moietyof the world to misery, who otherwise would have stayed contented,inconspicuous, and good. Angele would have been more than human ifshe had not felt the spell of the ablest intriguer, of the mostfascinating diplomatist of his day.
Before he spoke of marriage the thrill--the unconvincing thrillthough it was--of a perilous temptation was upon her; but the verything most meant to move her only made her shudder; for in her heartof hearts she knew that he was ineradicably false. To be married toone constitutionally untrue would be more terrible a fate for herthan to be linked to him in a lighter, more dissoluble bond. So dothe greatest tricksters of this world overdo their part, so play thewrong card when every past experience suggests it is the card toplay. He knew by the silence that followed his words, and the slow,steady look she gave him, that she was not won nor on the way to thewinning.
"My lord," she said, at last, and with a courage which steadied heraffrighted and perturbed innocence, "you are eloquent, you arefruitful of flattery, of those things which have, I doubt not, servedyou well in your day. But, if you see your way to a better life, itwere well you should choose one of nobler mould than I. I am not madefor sacrifice, to play the missioner and snatch brands from theburning. I have enough to do to keep my own feet in the ribbon-pathof right. You must look elsewhere for that guardian influence whichis to make of you a paragon."
"No, no," he answered, sharply, "you think the game not worth thecandle--you doubt me and what I can do for you; my sincerity, mypower you doubt."
"Indeed, yes, I doubt both," she answered, gravely, "for you wouldhave me believe that I have power to lead you. With how small a mindyou credit me! You think, too, that you sway this kingdom; but I knowthat you stand upon a cliff's edge, and that the earth is fraying'neath your tread. You dare to think that you have power to drag downwith you the man who honors me with--"
"With his love, you'd say. Yet he will leave you fretting out yoursoul until the sharp-edged truth cuts your heart in twain. Have youno pride? I care not what you say of me--say your worst, and I willnot resent it, for I will still prove that your way lies with me."
She gave a bitter sigh, and touched her forehead with tremblingfingers. "If words could prove it, I had been convinced but now, forthey are well devised, and they have music, too; but such a music, mylord, as would drown the truth in the soul of a woman. Your wordsallure, but you have learned the art of words. You yourself--oh, mylord, you who have tasted all the pleasures of this world, could youthen have the heart to steal from one who has so little that littlewhich 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,your eye brightens, your heart leaps to mine--I feel it now, I--"
"Oh, have done, have done," she passionately broke in. "I wouldrather die, be torn upon the rack, burned at the stake, than put myhand in yours. And you do not wish it--you speak but to destroy, notto cherish. While you speak to me I see all those"--she made agesture as though to put something from her--"all those to whom youhave spoken as you have done to me. I hear the myriad falsehoods youhave told--one whelming confusion. I feel the blindness which hascrept upon them--those poor women--as you have sown the air with thedust of the passion which you call love. Oh, you never knew what lovemeant, my lord. I doubt if when you lay in your mother's arms youturned to her with love. You never did one kindly act for love; nogenerous thought was ever born in you by love. Sir, I know it asthough it were written in a book: your life has been one longcalculation--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 to-day. 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 yourdark game--a pawn which you would lose without a thought as the gamewent on.
"If you must fight, my lord, if you must ruin Monsieur de la Foretand a poor Huguenot girl, do it by greater means than this. You havepower, you say. Use it then; destroy us, if you will. Send us to theMedici: bring us to the block, murder us--that were no new thing toLord Leicester. But do not stoop to treachery and falsehood to thrustus down. Oh, you have made me see the depths of shame to-day! Butyet"--her voice suddenly changed, a note of plaintive force filledit--"I have learned much this hour--more than I ever knew. Perhaps itis that we come to knowledge only through fire and tears." She smiledsadly. "I suppose that sometimes, some day, this page of life wouldhave scorched my sight. Oh, my lord, what was there in me that youdared speak so to me? Was there naught to have stayed your tongue andstemmed the tide in which you would engulf me?"
He had listened as in a dream at first. She had read him as he mightread himself, had revealed him with the certain truth, as none otherhad done in all his days. He was silent for a long moment, thenraised 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 uponit, after all that you have said, fair Huguenot, I see no cause forrailing. You call me this and that; to you I am a liar, a rogue, acut-throat, what you will; and yet, and yet, I will have my way--Iwill have my way in the end."
"You offered me marriage--and meant it not. Do I not know? Did yourely so little on your compelling powers, my lord, that you mustneeds resort to that bait? Do you think that you will have your wayto-morrow if you have failed to-day?"
With a quick change of tone and a cold, scornful laugh he rejoined,"Do you intend to measure swords with me?"
"Oh no, my lord," she answered, quietly, "what should one poor,unfriended girl do in contest with the Earl of Leicester? But yet, invery truth, I have friends, and in my hour of greatest need I shallgo seeking."
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 helpof such a Friend as fails not when all fails, even He who puttethdown the mighty from their seats and exalteth the humble."
"Ah, well, if I have not touched your heart," he answered, gallantly,"I at least have touched your wit and intellect. Once more I offeryou alliance. 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 whenman or woman said no that no was meant; and if it were meant he stillbelieved that constant dropping would wear away the stone. Hestill held that persistence was the greatest lever in the world,that unswerving persistence was the master of opportunity.
"IT WAS THE QUEEN'S FOOL"]
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, "andalone, by your leave."
Leicester was a good sportsman. Though he had been beaten all alongthe line, he hid his deep chagrin, choked down the rage that was inhim. Smiling, he bowed low.
"I will do myself the honor to visit your prison to-morrow," he said.
"My father will welcome you, my lord," she answered, and, gatheringup her skirt, ran down the pathway.
He stood, unmoving, and watched her disappear.
"But I shall have my way with them both," he said, aloud.
The voice of a singer sounded in the greenwood. 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 figurein motley 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 seek another fool for theyoke. Here are my bells for you. I will keep my cap. And so we willwork together, fool: you for the morning, I for the afternoon, andthe devil take the night-time! So God be with you, Obligato!"
With a laugh he leaped into the undergrowth and left Leicesterstanding with the bells in his hand.
A Ladder of Swords: A Tale of Love, Laughter and Tears Page 15