The other gave a little mortal start and cry “The Queen!” and could utter no more. A small, hateful laugh answered her. “The wife, fool! the she-wolf against whom you thought to guard your fold with straws. Why, look at you--I could peel you in my hands--a bloodless stalk, without heat or beauty!” “Spare me!” “Aye, as the wolf spares the lamb, the hawk the wren. Let me look on you. So this is a King’s fancy. I could have wrought him better from a kitchen-scrub. Quick! I am in; I have no time to lose, and thine has come. Poison or steel--make thy choice.” “O, madam, in pity! My heart--I have been weak and ill--I shall not vex thee long!” “God’s blood! And baulk my vengeance? Come--poison----” “O! What poison?” “Why, that thou art betrayed--supplanted. Another leman lies in thy bed--wife to one Blewit, a willing cuckold. Drink it, thy desertion, to the dregs.” “Sin must not beshrew sin. It is bitter to the death; but I drink it.” “O, thou toad! Thou wilt not die, for all thy stricken heart? Will this kill thee then?” She whipped out the red stiletto. Rosamond uttered a faint shriek. “Blood!” The Queen brandished it before her eyes. “I met thy whelp in the glade. It was he who betrayed the way to me.” The girl gasped and tottered forward. “I let him to his death. Monster, thou hast killed my Willie--my boy, my one darling!” She made an effort to leap forward--swayed--and fell her full length upon the grass. The Queen, softly replacing her blade, stood staring down. No sound or movement followed on the fall. Stooping, she gazed long and silently into the thin face, then, without a word, turned and retreated as she had come. The boy was standing, white and tearless, by his dead rabbit as she parted the leaves and slunk forth. “Go to thy mother, child,” she whispered, hoarse and small. “She is ill.” Maid Marian “Master Kay, are you my friend?” “Hear me vow it, madam.” “Alas! what vow?” “That I am your friend.” “Can you so perjure yourself? Are you not the King’s friend?” “O yes, indeed!” “How can you be his friend and mine?” “Why, as the bee’s the flower’s friend. I carry messages of love.” “Does he ask mine of me?” “Just that, madam--only your love, no more.” “No more? You say well. Why, truly my love were a little thing to be valued at no more than a man’s base desire.” “The man is the King, madam. His desire is great like himself.” “The King is the man, sir, and the man is hateful to me. Will you tell him so, and be indeed my friend?” “It would serve you ill, madam.” “Will he force me? Alack! I will kill myself.” “Nay, that you shall not, save you hold your breath and die of your own sweetness like a rose. No other way, be assured. He will wear you in his bosom first.” “God! Dear Master Kay, good Master Kay, sweet, gentle friend, let me kill myself!” “I must not.” “But to leap from the wall! It is a little way--but a step, and to save me hell! You would not have me burn for ever?”