It was a sad sight for many an astonished and resentful eye to observe the Queen and the man “Shakescene”--it is a foible of the great to affect a becoming uncertainty in regard to the names of humbler mortals--walking quite apart from all the rest, up one alley and down another, talking and laughing heartily upon terms which perilously approached equality. What the Queen’s majesty had in common with the merry-andrew in the barred cloak passed the comprehension of all. But the harsh and strident laugh of the royal lady, not unworthy of a raven with a sore throat, could be heard continually. Many a diligent courtier who had spent the flower of his years in waiting humbly upon the Queen’s pleasure without having anything very substantial in the way of preferment to show for it, was cut to the soul. And it was not here that the scandal ended. A little later when the Queen dined a place was set for the man Shakescene at her own table. And many a lisping, lily-white gentleman narrowly observed the demeanor of this upstart whose homely style and unaffected air offered so wide a target for their criticism. CHAPTER XXXII BY two o’clock that afternoon all was in readiness for the performance of the new comedy before Gloriana and her Court. A pavilion had been raised in the middle of one of the great lawns, in order that the spectators might be shielded from the sunshine which beat fiercely from a cloudless July heaven. At the edge of the lawn was a thicket of fine trees and heather, a veritable Forest of Arden in miniature. From the depths of this glade emerged the performers in this woodland pastoral. It was a great ordeal for Anne. On an occasion of far less importance she might have been overcome by fear. But now she was strung up almost to the breaking point. So grave was her pass and so much was at stake that a supreme call was made upon her will. And she responded nobly. No human being could have exercised a greater power of mind or brought a finer resolution to bear upon her task. The success of the play was never in doubt. To begin with it was one of the Queen’s “good days.” At this time Elizabeth was past sixty. And a temper which was not particularly mild even in the heydey of its youth had grown severe. But even this old and sour woman could not remain insensible to the wit and poetry of this new “interlude,” performed with the highest skill and grace in charmingly appropriate surroundings.