“Indeed, so her Majesty said with great humor,” replied Leicester. “So, indeed, she said; but when we hide our faces a thin veil suffices. The man is a soldier--a soldier born. Why should he turn priest now? I pray you, think again. He was quick of wit; the Queen’s meaning 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 no good to you, dear star of heaven. I have known the Queen for half a lifetime. She has wild whims and dangerous fancies, fills her hours of leisure with experiences--an artist is the Queen. She means no good to you.” She had made as if to leave him, though her eyes searched in vain for the path which she should take; but she now broke in, impatiently: “Poor, unnoted though I am, the Queen of England is my friend,” she answered. “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 last breath; because I know, my Lord Leicester, how many there are who serve her foully, faithlessly, and there should be those by her who would serve her singly.” His eyes half closed, he beat his toe upon the ground. He frowned, as though 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 Monsieur de la Forêt should be within the palace ever, and that you should be banished from 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 give joy or withhold it, appear to give when they mean to withhold? God bless us 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 and white. God gives the true divination to human hearts that need.” It was a contest in which Leicester revelled--simplicity and single-mindedness against the multifarious and double-tongued. He had made many efforts in his time to conquer argument and prejudice. When he chose, none could be more insinuating or turn the flank of a proper argument by adroit suggestion. He used his power now.