“I have no wish to show discourtesy to your sovereign,” she said, “but it was impossible that I should bring my mind sooner to speak of a matter so grievous to me and to my realm.” The ambassador bowed silently, and the queen went on. “Can it be that this strange news of the prince whom I have so loved and honored has been correctly reported to me?”
“In truth,” answered the ambassador gravely, “it is for this very thing that I am come to lament with your Majesty over the sad accident.”
“An accident?” questioned Elizabeth.
“Surely, your Majesty, for is not that an accident which is forced upon a sovereign by no will of his own, but by the plots and treasons of those whom he would gladly have befriended?”
“How may that be?” asked Elizabeth.
“The evening before the sad event the king was horrified to learn that in revenge for the attempt at assassination, a terrible deed had been planned. It was no less than the imprisonment of himself and his family and the murder of the Catholic leaders.”
“How was this known?”
“One whose conscience could no longer bear the burden revealed the wicked plot. The words and looks of several of the conspirators gave gloomy confirmation to the story.”
“Why not imprison the traitors? Is there no dungeon in France and no executioner?”
“Your Majesty, not all rulers have your keen judgment and your control of even the strongest sentiments of your heart. The king has not yet learned to govern his feelings by moderation. He had but a few short hours to decide what was best. Many were urging him on to inflict the most severe penalties, and at last he yielded, and allowed that to be done which he will ever regret. Especially does he lament that with a populace so wildly excited and so indignant at the plot against the king, it is all but impossible that some who are innocent should not have perished with the guilty. This is his chief cause of grief.” The ambassador had made as smooth a story as possible, but how would the queen receive it?