She appeared on a balcony, surrounded by her lords and ladies, and there received the diplomatists, speaking at length to the French envoy in a tone of lightness and elusive cheerfulness which he was at a loss to understand, and tried in vain to pierce by cogent remarks bearing on matters of moment involved in his embassage. Not far away stood Leicester, but the Queen had done no more than note his presence by a glance, and now and again with ostentatious emphasis she spoke to Angèle, whom she had had brought to her in the morning before chapel-going. Thus early, after a few questions and some scrutiny, she had sent her in charge of a gentleman-at-arms and a maid of the Duke’s Daughter to her father’s lodging, with orders to change her robe, to return to the palace in good time before noon, and to bring her father to a safe place where he could watch the pleasures of the people. When Angèle came to the presence again, she saw that the Queen was wearing a gown of pure white, with the sleeves shot with black, such as she herself had worn when admitted to audience yesterday. Vexed, agitated, imbittered as Elizabeth had been by the news brought to her the night before, she had kept her wardrobers and seamstresses at work the whole night to alter a white satin habit to the simplicity and style of that which Angèle had worn. “What think you of my gown, my lady refugee?” she said to Angèle, at last, as the Gentlemen Pensioners paraded in the space below, followed by the Knights-Tilters--at their head the Queen’s champion, Sir Henry Lee: twenty-five of the most gallant and favored of the courtiers of Elizabeth, including the gravest of her counsellors and the youngest gallant who had won her smile, Master Christopher Hatton. Some of these brave suitors, taken from the noblest families, had appeared in the tilt-yard every anniversary of the year of her accession and had lifted their romantic office, which seemed but the service of enamoured knights, into an almost solemn dignity. The vast crowd disposed itself around the great improvised yard where the Knights-Tilters were to engage, and the Queen, followed by her retinue, 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 burnished radiance. As Angèle passed with her in the gorgeous procession, she could not but view the scene with admiring eye, albeit her own sweet, sober attire--a pearly gray--seemed little in keeping; for the ladies and lords were most richly attired, and the damask and satin cloaks, crimson velvet gowns, silk hoods, and jewelled swords and daggers made a brave show. She was like some moth in a whorl of butterflies.