meant that it would drive Leicester to some act which would hasten his own doom; though, indeed, it might also make another path more difficult for himself, for the Parliament, for the people. Little as Elizabeth could endure tales of love and news of marriage; little as she believed in any vows, save those made to herself; little as she was inclined to adjust the rough courses of true love, she was the surgeon to this particular business, and she had the surgeon's love of laying bare even to her own cynicism the hurt of the poor patient under her knife. Indeed, so had Angele impressed her that for once she thought she might hear the truth. Because she saw the awe in the other's face and a worshipping admiration of the great protectress of Protestantism, who had by large gifts of men and money in times past helped the Cause, she looked upon her here with kindness. "Speak now, mistress fugitive, and I will listen," she added, as Cecil withdrew; and she made a motion to musicians in a distant gallery. Angele's heart fluttered to her mouth, but the soft, simple music helped her, and she began with eyes bent upon the ground, her linked fingers clasping and unclasping slowly. "I was born at Rouen, your high Majesty," she said. "My mother was a cousin of the Prince of Passy, the great Protestant--" "Of Passy--ah!" said Elizabeth amazed. "Then you are Protestants indeed; and your face is no invention, but cometh honestly. No, no, 'tis no accident--God rest his soul, great Passy!" "She died--my mother--when I was a little child. I can but just remember her--so brightly quiet, so quick, so beautiful. In Rouen life had little motion; but now and then came stir and turmoil, for war sent its message into the old streets, and our captains and our peasants poured forth to fight for the King. Once came the King and Queen--Francis and Mary--" Elizabeth drew herself upright with an exclamation. "Ah, you have seen her--Mary of Scots," she said sharply. "You have seen her?" "As near as I might touch her with my hand, as near as is your high Majesty. She spoke to me--my mother's father was in her train;--as yet we had not become Huguenots, nor did we know her Majesty as now the world knows. They came, the King and Queen--and that was the beginning." She paused, and looked shyly at Elizabeth, as though she found it hard to tell her story. "And the beginning, it was--?" said Elizabeth, impatient and intent. "We went to Court. The Queen called my mother into her train. But it was in no wise for our good. At Court my mother pined away--and so she died in durance." "Wherefore in durance?" "To what she saw she would not shut her eyes; to what she heard she would not close her soul; what was required of her she would not do." "She would not obey the Queen?" "She could not obey those whom the Queen favoured. Then the tyranny that broke her heart--" The Queen interrupted her.