[_He goes out, with Jane, through the other concealed door._ MASTER ENEAS (_alone_). Fabiani remains in the trap. Now, there is a shrewd little woman whom Simon Renard would have paid a good deal for. How will the Queen take all this? Provided the consequences do not fall on my shoulders! [_The Queen and Simon Renard enter with rapid steps. The tumult outside has steadily increased. It is night. Cries of death, torches, lights, sounds of moving masses; the click of arms, shots, the stamping of horses. Several noblemen with daggers in their hands accompany The Queen. Among them are the herald of England, Clarence, bearing the royal banner, and the herald of the Order of the Garter, Jarretiere, bearing the banner of that order._ SCENE IX _The Queen, Simon Renard, Master Eneas, Lord Clinton, the two heralds, lords, pages, etc._ The Queen (_low to Master Eneas_). Has Fabiani escaped? MASTER ENEAS. Not yet! THE QUEEN. Not yet! [_Giving him a terrible look._ MASTER ENEAS (_aside_). The devil! THE PEOPLE (_outside_). Death to Fabiani! SIMON RENARD. You must make your decision on the spot, madame. The people demand this man's death! The Tower is besieged. The revolt is formidable. Your nobles have been cut to pieces on London Bridge. Your Majesty's pensioners hold their own yet; but, just the same, your Majesty has been chased street by street, from the City Hall to the Tower of London. Madame Elizabeth's followers have joined the people. You can tell that by the venom of the mob. All this is serious. What does your Majesty command? THE PEOPLE. Fabiani! Death to Fabiani! [_They grow louder, and come nearer._ THE QUEEN. Death to Fabiani! Do you hear that howling populace, my lords? You must throw a man out to them. The rabble is hungry! SIMON RENARD. What does your Majesty command? THE QUEEN. By heaven, my lords! it seems to me you all stand trembling around me! Upon my soul! must a woman show you your duty as noblemen? To horse, my lords, to horse! Are you afraid of the rabble? Are swords afraid of clubs? SIMON RENARD. Don't let things go any further. Yield, madame, while there is yet time. You can yet say "the rabble"; in an hour you will have to say "the people"! [_The cries increase, the noise comes nearer._ THE QUEEN. In an hour! SIMON RENARD (_going to gallery and returning_). In a quarter of an hour, madame. The first wall of the Tower is broken down. One more step, the mob will be here. THE PEOPLE. To the Tower! to the Tower! Fabiani! death to Fabiani! THE QUEEN. How right they are who call the people terrible! Fabiano! SIMON RENARD. Do you want to see him torn to pieces before your eyes? THE QUEEN. Do you know this is infamous, that not one of you stirs? In the name of Heaven, defend me, my lords! LORD CLINTON. You? yes, madame. Fabiano? no! THE QUEEN.