For a moment the Queen mused, then she spoke again. "Under what circumstances saw you the King in St. Quentin? Methinks he would thrust himself somewhat recklessly into danger. Did he charge at the head of his troops?—tell me all." "He was ever found where the fight was hottest," replied Geoffrey, "and he was greatly concerned for the fate of the women and children; he had them conducted in safety out of the city." "Oh! gallant Philip," murmured the Queen, as if she spoke to herself, and was unconscious that others were present. "Go on, I pray you!" she said aloud. "He was greatly concerned for the safety of the cathedral, and he ordered the English contingent to see that it suffered no injury," continued Geoffrey. "While the siege was hotly proceeding he ordered the monks of the cathedral to convey the relics of St. Quentin, which lay enshrined there, to his own tent outside the town." The Queen was greatly moved, and she beckoned the Cardinal to her side. "You hear, father?" she whispered to him. "Sometimes I have thought that you misjudged the King, that you did not fully estimate his fervent piety, nor know how easily his noble heart was ever open to the cry for mercy, how full it was of tenderness and pity!" Poor Mary, poor infatuated Queen! Suddenly she put her hand to her side as a spasm of pain seized her. "Tell Lady Howard to come hither," she said to Pole, "and to bring with her my strongest essences." This being done, the Queen seemed to recover, and she would have made further inquiries of the envoys, but the Cardinal intervened. "Will your Majesty pardon me?" he said; "the hour grows late, and these gallant young soldiers can wait on you to-morrow; I fear that your Majesty is exerting yourself too much." Scarcely with these words had the Cardinal persuaded Mary, but he had further arguments at command. "It is the hour for Vespers, your Majesty, and Father Petre awaits us in the oratory." "Yes, you are right," replied the Queen, with sudden willingness; "let us offer to Heaven our thanks for this blessed news from St. Quentin, ere my strength fail me." The interview ended as it began; Mary extended her poor wasted hand, and the envoys knelt to kiss it. They never saw Queen Mary again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XVII THREE CLOSING SCENES SCENE I It was the last day of the year 1557, and it closed amid storm and tempest. The old town of Calais was enshrouded in gloom, the lanterns which dimly lit the streets had one by one gone out under the combined influence of a howling wind and a heavy rain.