'My lords, I am beholden to the King o' Scots. For had he met me I had not yet been here. Get you to your beds; I could wish ye had such wives----' 'The King! the King!' a voice muttered. Henry said-- 'Ha, who spoke?' There was a faint squeak, a dull rustle. 'My cousin Kat----' the voice said. The King said-- 'Ha!' again, and incredulous and haughty he raised his brows. Above the mirror, in the great light of the candles, there showed the pale face, the fishy, wide-open and bewildered eyes of Culpepper. His hair was dishevelled in points; his mouth was open in amazement. He uttered-- 'The King!' as if that were the most astonishing thing, and, standing behind the table, staggered and clutched the arras to sustain himself. Henry said-- 'Ha! Treason!' But Katharine whispered at his ear-- 'No; this my cousin is distraught. Speak on to the lords.' In the King's long pause several lords said aloud-- 'The King cried "Treason!" Draw your swords!' Then the King cast his cap upon the ground. 'By God!' he said. 'What marlocking is this? Is it general joy that emboldens ye to this license? God help me!' he said, and he stamped his foot upon the ground--'Body of God!' And many other oaths he uttered. Then, with a sudden clutching at his throat, he called out-- 'Well! well! I pardon ye. For no doubt to some that be young--and to some that be old too--it is an occasion for mummeries and japes when a good man cometh home to his dame.' He looked round upon Culpepper. The Queen's cousin stood, his jaw still hanging wide, and his body crumpled back against the arras. He was hidden from them all by wall and door, but Henry could not judge how long he would there remain. Riding through the night he had conned a speech that he would have said at the Queen's door, and at the times of joy and graciousness he loved to deliver great speeches. But there he said only-- 'Why, God keep you. I thank such of you as were with me upon the campaign and journey. Now this campaign and journey is ended--I dissolve you each to his housing and bed. Farewell. Be as content as I be!' And, with his great hand he swung to the heavy door. PART THREE THE DWINDLING MELODY I The Lady Rochford lay back upon the floor in a great faint. 'Heaven help me!' the Queen said. 'I had rather she had played the villain than been such a palterer.' She glided to the table and picked up the dagger that shone there beneath Culpepper's nose. 'Take even this,' she said to the King. 'It is an ill thing to bestow. Sword he hath none.' Having had such an estimation of his good wife's wit that, since he would not have her think him a dullard, he passed over the first question that he would have asked, such as, 'I think this be thy cousin and how came he here?' 'Would he have slain me?' he asked instead, as if it were a little thing. 'I do not think so,' Katharine said. 'Maybe it was me he would have slain.'