"A votary of non-discipline is impregnable to ethics." "Oh, Janet, dear Janet, I am weary. How is the young man that was wounded?" "The same as ever; save his ardour is somewhat cooled." "Thou dost speak as if thou hadst known him." "Indeed, any cock of the hackle is essentially commonplace." "But he carried the sword of a gentleman?" "Thou dost mean he carried a gentleman's sword." "Dost thou know who he is, Janet?" "I have not inquired." "In other words, thou didst see him. And 'twas--I am sure--Adrian Cantemir." "'Twas none other." "I will go down now and see their Graces." "Art sure thou wilt not see thy lord?" "Aye, quite!" "Then--here this is for thee." She handed her a dainty billet, scented with bergamot. Katherine took it in trembling haste, her face rose-hued. It read: "To My Lady of Crandlemar. Greeting to my sweet wife, Kate. I await my reprimand and sword. When I am so honoured, I shall enlist to serve thee with my presence, which, until then, is held by thee in abeyance. Thou canst not rob me of my thoughts, which hold naught else but thee; nor yet that dainty girdle that did encompass thy fair and slender mould. I have it on my heart, close pressed; but it doth keep that it lieth on in turmoil by such proximity. I know thou dost love me, even though I tricked thee. Janet was to tell thee this morning who thy true lord is, for, Sweet, I would have no other image but mine in thy heart, for soon--soon--aye, in a very short time--I may be a prisoner in the Tower. Do not think, Sweet, this is a ruse--but should I be taken where I might not see thy face, 'twould be sweet to know thou didst hold my image, dear. Forgive me, Sweet, and--_au revoir!_--Perhaps thy heart will relent before--before the nightingale sings.--Relent, sweetheart, wife." Kate pressed the billet to her lips without thinking, then turned her back quickly to hide the action; but 'twas too late. Janet had been watching every movement and was satisfied. "I wish I had not opened it; such letters are disturbing. Janet, go below and find if I may see her Grace without meeting any one." When alone, she devoured again and again the billet, and as Janet returned, thrust it quickly within the bosom of her gown. "His lordship has returned from the terrace and is in the picture gallery. Her Grace wishes to see thee and waits breakfast."