Even now the Attorney-General, fresh to the charge, pressed her with his sarcastic comments.
"You speak well, fair Mistress," he said blandly, "but you know no doubt that your story needs corroboration. Two witnesses who are Englishmen and members of our National Church have sworn that the prisoner spent the evening of April the nineteenth in treasonable converse with an enemy of this country and in their presence; mark you that the accused himself hath confessed to his guilt. Yet do you swear that he spent that day and evening in your company, until so late that a cruel father came and dragged you away from the delectable privacy. But with all due acknowledgment to the charm of your presence, Mistress," added Sir William Jones, suddenly dropping his bland manner and speaking with almost studied insolence, "you must see for yourself that if a wench desires that she be credited, she must above all bear a spotless reputation, and this on your own acknowledgment you flung to the winds, the day that you—avowedly married to Mr. Rupert Kestyon, formerly styled Earl of Stowmaries—did publicly flout your marriage vows by leaving your father's house in company with the accused. Now justice, though blind, my wench, doth wish to see farther than a minx's tale which mayhap hath been concocted to save her gallant from the block."
The girl had not winced at the insults. Happily her father had not understood them, and the issue at stake was far too great to leave room for vain indignation or even for outraged pride. What bitter resentment she felt was for Michael's sake. She knew how every insolent word uttered by that bland cynic in the name of the law and of justice, would strike against the already-overburdened heart of the man who loved her with such passionate adoration. The impotence that weighed on Michael now was of a truth the most bitter wrong to bear in the midst of all this misery. Samson bound and fettered was helpless in the hands of the Philistines. Prometheus chained to the rock saw the vultures hovering over him and the eagles pecking at his heart.
"As to that, sir," replied Rose Marie quietly, after a brief pause, "these honourable gentlemen here whom you call the jury will have to judge for themselves as to who hath lied: those other witnesses or I—they who have everything to gain, or I and my father, who have everything to lose. But you say that the justice of this land will need corroboration of our statements ere she turns to right an innocent man. This corroboration, sir, you shall have, an you will tell me what form it shall take."
"Some other witness of the prisoner's presence in your company at the inn of St. Denis during the day and evening of April nineteenth," retorted Sir William Jones brusquely.
"I know only of the innkeeper himself and his wife," she rejoined. "Simple folk to whose testimony—seeing the temper of the people of England just now—you would scarce give credence, mayhap."
"Mayhap not," quoth the Attorney-General mockingly.
"Yet think again, Mistress," interposed the Lord Chief Justice not unkindly, "corroboration the law must have—if not to right the innocent then to punish the guilty."
The young girl's eyes closed for a moment. She clung to her father in pathetic abandonment; beads of perspiration stood on her forehead; her eyes were dry and hot and her throat parched. But for Papa Legros' presence mayhap her magnificent calm would have deserted her then. She drew herself together, however, and a look of understanding passed between father and daughter. Then the tailor drew a paper from his pocket.
It was a large and heavy document and it bore two huge seals engraved with the arms of the Holy See. This Papa Legros gave into an usher's hand, who in his turn handed it up to the Lord Chief Justice.