Elizabeth, seeing De la Foret’s dumb amazement and anxiety, spoke up sharply: “Do this, or get you hence to the Medici, and Madame of Montgomery shall mourn her protector, and Mademoiselle your mistress of the vermilion cheek, shall have one lover the less; which, methinks, our Seigneur of Rozel would thank me for.” De la Foret started, his lips pressed firmly together in effort of restraint. There seemed little the Queen did not know concerning him; and reference to Angele roused him to sharp solicitude. “Well, well?” asked Elizabeth impatiently, then made a motion to Leicester, and he, going to the door, bade some one to enter. There stepped inside the Seigneur of Rozel, who made a lumbering obeisance, then got to his knees before the Queen. “You have brought the lady safely--with her father?” she asked. Lempriere, puzzled, looked inquiringly at the Queen, then replied: “Both are safe without, your infinite Majesty.” De la Foret’s face grew pale. He knew now for the first time that Angele and her father were in England, and he looked Lempriere suspiciously in the eyes; but the swaggering Seigneur met his look frankly, and bowed with ponderous and genial gravity. Now De la Foret spoke. “Your high Majesty,” said he, “if I may ask Mademoiselle Aubert one question in your presence--” “Your answer now; the lady in due season,” interposed the Queen. “She was betrothed to a soldier, she may resent a priest,” said De la Foret, with a touch of humour, for he saw the better way was to take the matter with some outward ease. Elizabeth smiled. “It is the custom of her sex to have a fondness for both,” she answered, with an acid smile. “But your answer?” De la Foret’s face became exceeding grave. Bowing his head, he said: “My sword has spoken freely for the Cause; God forbid that my tongue should not speak also. I will do your Majesty’s behest.” The jesting word that was upon the royal lips came not forth, for De la Foret’s face was that of a man who had determined a great thing, and Elizabeth was one who had a heart for high deeds. “The man is brave indeed,” she said under her breath, and, turning to the dumfounded Seigneur, bade him bring in Mademoiselle Aubert. A moment later Angele entered, came a few steps forward, made obeisance, and stood still. She showed no trepidation, but looked before her steadily. She knew not what was to be required of her, she was a stranger in a strange land; but persecution and exile had gone far to strengthen her spirit and greaten her composure. Elizabeth gazed at the girl coldly and critically. To women she was not over-amiable; but as she looked at the young Huguenot maid, of this calm bearing, warm of colour, clear of eye, and purposeful of face, some thing kindled in her. Most like it was that love for a cause, which was more to be encouraged by her than any woman’s love for a man, which as she grew older inspired her with aversion, as talk of marriage brought cynical allusions to her lips.