As may be imagined, it was not very long before matters came to a crisis between Simier and his former master. The Prince urged Elizabeth again and again, as she loved him, to expel Simier from England; but she was shocked at such an idea. He had only come to justify himself, and she could testify that he had conducted the marriage negotiations better than any one else before or since, and she could not be so unjust as to expel him even to gratify her “chère grenouille.” Then Alençon began to hector and threaten Simier, and ordered him to return. Simier replied that he was no longer in his service, and would not budge until it suited him; and against this Alençon could only chafe fruitlessly and continue his complaints to the Queen. All that she, and indeed the whole country, wanted was to see her too persistent suitor himself across the sea Cecil pointed out to him that if he stayed over New Year’s Day it would cost him a very large sum in presents, which he might save if he left before; but still he would not go, and Elizabeth began to get angry. She told Cecil on Christmas night that she would not marry Alençon to be empress of the world, and the next day the Lord Treasurer made another strenuous attempt to get him away, but he found him more obstinate than ever. He said he had been drawn into this Flemish adventure by the English on the bait of a marriage with the Queen, and until she had married him he would stir no further, whatever might happen. If the Queen contemned and threw him over he would arouse Catholic Christendom to avenge him. This alarmed her, and she again sought to bend him to her will by tears, cajoleries, and blandishments. It was not her fault, she said; would he not accept her as a dear friend and sister instead of as a wife? No, he replied; he had suffered, risked, and lost too much to give up the quest now. He would rather die than leave here unmarried to her. Did he, the Queen asked, mean to threaten a poor old woman in her own country? Was this the only result of all his boasted love for her? If she did not think that his violence was inspired by the strength of his affection for her she would surely think him crazy, and she warned him not to sacrifice his best friends by such words. He melted at this, poor, overwrought, sorely-beset lad as he was, burst into tears, and swore he would rather be torn into a thousand bits than lose the hope of marrying her, and thus become the laughing-stock of the whole world. In this mood the Queen could deal with him; she mingled her tears with his, wiped his wet cheeks with her own handkerchief, and “consoled him with words more tender even than the occasion demanded.”[152] As soon as Alençon had left her she sent for Sussex, and told him what had passed. She would rather, she said, succeed in getting Alençon gone without offence than possess another kingdom. She was much disturbed, especially that Alençon had sent an account to France, as he said he had, of the giving