"I know it all," he answered; "all that you can tell me, Craven. Come and see me, if you will. Right glad shall I be to spend an hour with you; but mention not that name again. Much is, doubtless, false; much is, doubtless, exaggerated; but much must be true that should not be so; and my own course is decided." Thus saying, he turned to Herbert, and, after a few words, walked back with him to the tower where he had been confined.
CHAPTER VI.
The fair Princess of England, now in the pride of youth and beauty, in the full sunshine of prosperity and power, with one of the fairest portions of the earth for her dominions, with admiration, flattery, esteem, love, almost adoration, rising up like incense before her, but with so sad and dark a fate for the future, sat in her silver chamber, surrounded by all the beauty she could collect from her husband's dominions. There were only three men present, two old German noblemen, and, strange to say, our acquaintance William Lovet. The hour was nearly the same as that at which Algernon Grey was summoned to the presence of the Elector before his release; and every face around was full of satisfaction, as the Princess and her countryman talked somewhat lightly of the imprisonment of Lovet's kinsman, and the prospects before him; using the French tongue.
The Englishman stood before the chair of the Electress, with his hat and plume dangling from his hand, his head slightly bent, his ear turned to hear the Princess's words, and a slight sarcastic smile upon his finely-turned lip.
"Good faith! your Highness," he said, in answer to something the Princess communicated, "I know not well whether to rejoice or be sad at the tidings you give me."
"Sad!" exclaimed Elizabeth, with a look of much surprise; "have you not been urging his liberation?"
"That was a duty," answered Lovet, with the same meaning smile; "but there may be unpleasant duties, madam."
"Are you his friend, his kinsman?" exclaimed the Electress.
"Both," answered Lovet; "but yet, friendship may have unpleasant duties too. I urged his liberation, not because I thought it best for him, but because it was what he had a right to demand."
"Is he so wild and rash, then," demanded Elizabeth, "that, like a lion, he must be kept in a cage?--But you are jesting; I see it on your face."