“Ay, the Princess,” repeated the queen. “I will confront you with her. Bid the lord chancellor and the ambassadors of Spain and France attend us,” she continued to the usher. “I know not what your highness intends,” said Courtenay, as the attendant departed. “But I will die rather than do aught to prejudice the princess.” “I doubt it not, my lord,” rejoined Mary, bitterly. “But though I cannot punish the perfidy of a lover, I can the disobedience of a subject. If you refuse to obey my commands, you will take the consequences.” Courtenay bit his lips to repress the answer that rose to them. In a few minutes, the usher returned and announced the Princess Elizabeth, as well as Gardiner, Renard, and De Noailles. Instantly perceiving how matters stood, the imperial ambassador deemed his own triumph complete, and Courtenay’s disgrace certain. “My lord,” said Mary, addressing Gardiner, “it is no secret to you, neither to you, M. Renard, nor to you, M. De Noailles—that of all those proposed to me in marriage—the Princes of Spain and Portugal, the King of the Romans, Cardinal Pole, and others—I have preferred this man, whom I myself have raised to the rank he now holds, and enriched with the estates he enjoys.” “We know it, gracious Madam,” replied Gardiner, alarmed at the ominous commencement, “and we think your highness has made a happy choice, and one most acceptable to your subjects. Do we not, M. Renard?” The ambassador bowed, but said nothing. “The alliance is in all respects agreeable to my sovereign, Henry the Second of France,” observed De Noailles. “What then if I inform you,” pursued Mary, “that the Earl of Devonshire has rejected my proposal? What if he has broken his oath of fidelity? What if he has cast aside the crown offered him, and smitten by the charms of a youthful beauty, abandoned the Queen, who has stooped to raise him to her throne!” “Impossible!” exclaimed Gardiner and De Noailles. “You are mistaken,” rejoined Mary, sternly. “You shall hear him avow his perfidy with his own lips.” “When I do hear it,” replied De Noailles, looking steadily at Courtenay, “I will believe it. But I cannot think him capable of such madness.” “Nor I,” said Gardiner, glancing significantly from beneath his bent brows. Elizabeth, who on the commencement of the Queen’s address had turned very pale, could with difficulty maintain her composure. Her agitation did not escape the notice of Mary, whose jealousy was increased by the sight. “What if I tell you,” she continued, “that this false earl has transferred his affections to our sister?” “Your highness!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Peace!” cried the Queen, fiercely. “And she, well knowing his engagement to ourself, has dared to encourage his suit.” “Whoever told your majesty this, lied in his throat,” cried Courtenay. “I own myself guilty, but the Princess Elizabeth is no partner to my folly.”