In the meanwhile Elizabeth in England was still playing her part of the comedy. When she had parted from her lover at Canterbury she prayed him to address her in his letters as his wife, and daily epistles full of lovesick nonsense continued to pass between them. She openly said that she would willingly give a million for her dear “frog” to be disporting himself in the clear waters of the Thames rather than in the sluggish ponds of the Netherlands, and again asserted her intention of marrying her suitor if his brother would fulfil his promises. All this made Leicester in Flanders and Hatton in London somewhat distrustful. The former thought that perhaps after all he might be duped, and that Alençon might detain him against his will. The Queen, moreover, in Hatton’s hearing had made some remark about men never knowing how fortunate they were until fortune had left them, which he applied to Leicester, and sent a special messenger to urge him to return at once. Leicester needed no second bidding. The very day after the investure of Alençon he suddenly left Antwerp at dinner-time and hastened to England. He arrived in London on the 26th of February in high glee, boasting of the good service he had done in leaving the Queen’s troublesome suitor stuck fast in the bogs, like a wrecked hulk, deserted by wind and tide. The oath of allegiance, he said, was only a farce, and Alençon a laughing-stock. Pasquins and insulting placards had been fixed to his chamber-door on the very first day of his stay in Antwerp; the Queen of England, and she alone, was now arbitratress of the peace of Europe. This was pleasant talk for Elizabeth, but was soon conveyed to Marchaumont, who made a formal complaint to the Queen of Leicester’s words. For this reason or from fear of Spain, she had a great wrangle with Leicester the next night. She had never meant to sanction the formal investure, she said, and had not been informed of it. Leicester, for his own ostentation, had implied by his presence at the ceremony her authority for it, and had drawn her into an act of open hostility to the King of Spain. He was a knave and a traitor, she said, and much else of the same sort. It was all a planned thing between him and that tyrannical Orange, so that the latter might have his own way in all things. She then turned on Walsingham, and called him a scamp for persuading Alençon to go to the Netherlands at all. Probably all this extraordinary talk, and the Queen and Cecil’s sudden attempt to gain the goodwill and friendship of Spain, were caused by the intelligence sent by her ambassador, Cobham, in France, that the King had stoutly refused to countenance his brother’s attempt, and had declared traitors all those who helped him. Henry’s hand then was not to be forced, and after all she might find herself alone face to face with all the Catholic powers united. The fear of this always brought her to her knees, and she insisted upon Cecil’s leaving a