When the maid summoned me, I arose, bathed and put on my faded, tarnished suit of blue and silver. Round my waist I belted my sword, freshening the clothes where I could, and then booted, spurred, wigged, hatted, coated, armed, I descended to the parlour where the Earl of Feversham awaited me. He was evidently much struck by my appearance, but had the delicacy to say nothing. We returned to the palace a-horseback, it being quicker and suited to the changed conditions. Promptly at the appointed time we were ushered into the presence of the King in the same room in which the interview of the afternoon had taken place. Now, I had worn this suit of blue and silver after the first compunction of conscience with absolute indifference. I had become entirely accustomed to it, and my modesty took no affront because I was seen abroad in it. I had passed muster easily enough for a stripling and I had never thought of what the clothes concealed or revealed until that moment when I stood in the presence of the King. The same gentlemen who had been with him before were with him now, Jeffreys on his right, Ken on his left. Naturally I suppose I made a striking figure. Their curiosity was, without doubt, much excited, and they were all anxious to see me. The look that the Bishop bent upon me was full of interest, but it was full of a gentle consideration, almost of pity. He might have looked at his own daughter that way, deprecating the fact while he acknowledged the necessity for her unmaidenly appearance. But the glances of the King and his minion were so brutal, so suggestive, so degrading that unconsciously, as my face flamed and my body tingled, I clapped my hand to the hilt of my sword. "By the Mass," laughed the King, although there was a quaver of uncertainty in his cowardly voice, "never lay your hand on your sword in the royal presence in that manner. Stay, madam," he cried hastily as I made a bold step forward. "Feversham!" The officer quietly laid a restraining hand upon my arm. "Bethink you where you are, madam," he whispered, "and how much depends on your conduct." "Your Majesty," said I quickly, "I did but lay my hand upon my sword to proffer it in your service,"--which was another falsehood, for I would have been glad to have driven it into Jeffreys' black heart in his very presence; ay, even into the King's heart also. "You come of a stock, madam," said the King, "which makes us doubt such protestations of true service. Yet she can be a bold enough enemy; hey, my lord?" He turned to the Bishop. "She hath shown here, Your Majesty," returned the prelate, "how deeply devoted she is to the noble earl, her father." "She shows more than that," roared Jeffreys, leering lustfully, "she shows a pretty figure, a well turned leg...." My hand went to my sword again. Had I been a man, I could not have more fiercely resented his disgracefully insulting words and looks. Again Feversham laid his hand upon my arm.