Nothing is more apparent, in all that Chapuys writes at this time, than Henry’s weakness in whatever concerned Anne. His passion for her was already on the wane, but he dared not disregard her least wish, and her empire over him, although exercised by different means, was as great as it had ever been. One day he set out for Hatfield, to pay a visit to the little Elizabeth, and at the same time, to try all that persuasion and threats from his own lips could do, to reduce Mary to submission, and induce her to give up her title. Anne, considering his “easiness or lightness (if any one dared to call it so), and that the beauty, virtue and prudence of the Princess might assuage his wrath and cause him to treat her better,” sent Cromwell and other messengers after him to prevent his seeing or speaking with his daughter Mary. Accordingly, Henry, before arriving at the house, sent on orders that she was not to come to him, and while he was there, he delegated to Cromwell, to the treasurer, and to the captain of the guard, the office of remonstrating with her. But to all their arguments she replied that she had already given a decided answer, that it was labour wasted to press her further, and that they were deceived if they thought that rudeness, bad treatment, or even the fear of death would shake her determination. While her father was with Elizabeth, she sent to ask leave to come and kiss his hand; but this request he dared not grant. Just, however, as he was about to mount his horse, he looked up (Chapuys is uncertain whether by chance or whether his attention was directed by some one present) to the terrace on the top of the house, and saw Mary on her knees, with her hands clasped. He bowed to her, and put his hand to his hat, whereupon all present, who had before this not dared to look at her, “saluted her reverently with signs of goodwill and compassion”.[115] The ambassador continues:—