Lemprière had recovered his heart, and now was set full sail in the course he had charted for himself in Jersey. In large words and larger manner he explained most innocently the sacred privilege of perquage.
“And how often have you used the right, friend?” asked Elizabeth.
“But once in ten years, your noble Majesty.”
“When last?”
“But yesterday a week, your universal Majesty.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Who was the criminal, what the occasion?”
“The criminal was one Buonespoir, the occasion our coming hither to wait upon the Queen of England and our Lady of Normandy, for such is your well-born Majesty to your loyal Jersiais.” And thereupon he plunged into an impeachment of De Carteret of St. Ouen’s, and stumbled through a blunt, broken story of the wrongs and the sorrows of Michel and Angèle and the doings of Buonespoir in their behalf.
Elizabeth frowned and interrupted him. “I have heard of this Buonespoir, monsieur, through others than the Seigneur of St. Ouen’s. He is an unlikely squire of dames. There’s a hill in my kingdom has long bided his coming. Where waits the rascal now?”
“In the antechapel, your Majesty.”
“By the rood!” said Elizabeth, in sudden amazement. “In my antechapel, forsooth!”