While the festivities above described occurred without the palace, within, all was confusion and alarm. The look, which Elizabeth had given Courtenay, sank into his very soul. All his future greatness appeared valueless in his eyes, and his only desire was to break off the alliance with Mary, and reinstate himself in the affections of her sister. For the queen, it is almost needless to say, he felt no real love. But he was passionately enamoured of Elizabeth, whose charms had completely captivated him. As soon as she could consistently do so, after her return to the palace, the princess retired to her own apartments, and though her departure afforded some relief to the earl, he still continued in a state of great perturbation. Noticing his altered manner, the queen inquired the cause with great solicitude. Courtenay answered her evasively. And putting her own construction upon it, she said in a tone of encouragement—“It was a strange remark made by the little urchin who enacted Cupid. Was he tutored in his speech?” “Not by me, gracious madam,” replied Courtenay, distractedly. “Then the knave hath a ready wit,” returned the queen. “He has put thoughts into my head which I cannot banish thence.” “Indeed!” exclaimed the earl. “I trust his boldness has not offended you.” “Do I look so?” rejoined Mary, smiling. “If I do, my countenance belies my feelings. No, Courtenay, I have been thinking that no woman can govern a great kingdom, like mine, unaided. She must have some one, to whom she can ever apply for guidance and protection,—some one to whom she can open her whole heart,—to whom she can look for counsel, consolation, love. In whom could she find all this?” “In no one but a husband, gracious madam,” replied Courtenay, who felt he could no longer affect to misunderstand her. “You are right, my lord,” she replied playfully. “Can you not assist our choice?” “If I dared,”—said Courtenay, who felt he was standing upon the verge of a precipice. “Pshaw!” exclaimed Mary. “A queen must ever play the wooer. It is part of her prerogative. Our choice is already made—so we need not consult you on the subject.” “May I not ask whom your majesty has so far distinguished?” demanded the earl, trembling. “You shall learn anon, my lord,” replied the queen. “We choose to keep you a short time in suspense, for here comes Simon Renard, and we do not intend to admit him to our confidence.” “That man is ever in my path,” muttered the earl, returning the ambassador s stern glance with one equally menacing. “I am half reconciled to this hateful alliance by the thought of the mortification it will inflict upon him.” It would almost seem from Renard’s looks, that he could read what was passing in the other’s breast; for his brow grew each instant more lowering.