“You have brought the lady safely—with her father?” she asked.
Lemprière, puzzled, looked inquiringly at the Queen, then replied, “Both are safe without, your infinite Majesty.”
De la Forêt’s face grew pale. He knew now for the first time that Angèle and her father were in England, and he looked Lemprière suspiciously in the eyes; but the swaggering seigneur met his look frankly, and bowed with ponderous and genial gravity.
Now De la Forêt spoke. “Your high Majesty,” said he, “if I may ask Mademoiselle Aubert one question in your presence—”
“Your answer now; the lady in due season,” interposed the Queen.
“She was betrothed to a soldier, she may resent a priest,” said De la Forêt, with a touch of humor, for he saw the better way was to take the matter with some outward ease.
Elizabeth smiled. “It is the custom of her sex to have a fondness for both,” she answered, with an acid smile. “But your answer?”
De la Forêt’s face became exceeding grave. Bowing his head, he said: “My sword has spoken freely for the cause; God forbid that my tongue should not speak also. I will do your Majesty’s behest.”
The jesting word that was upon the royal lips came not forth, for De la Forêt’s face was that of a man who had determined a great thing, and Elizabeth was one who had a heart for high deeds. “The man is brave indeed,” she said, under her breath, and, turning to the dumfounded seigneur, bade him bring in Mademoiselle Aubert.
A moment later, Angèle entered, came a few steps forward, made obeisance, and stood still. She showed no trepidation, but looked before her steadily. She knew not what was to be required of her—she was a stranger in a strange land; but persecution and exile had gone far to strengthen her spirit and greaten her composure.