She told him hastily. He heard with astonishment, and then said: “There is some foul trick here. Have you the message?” She handed it to him. “It is the surgeon’s writing, verily,” he said; “but it is still a trick, for the sick man here is Rozel. I see it all. You and I forbidden to meet—it was a trick to bring you here!”
“Oh, let me go!” she cried. “Michel, Michel, take me hence!” She turned towards the door.
“The gates are closed,” he said, as a cannon boomed on the evening air.
Angèle trembled violently. “Oh, what will come of this?” she cried, in tearful despair.
“Be patient, sweet, and let me think,” he answered.
At that moment there came a knocking at the door, then it was thrown open, and there stepped inside the Earl of Leicester, preceded by a page bearing a torch.
“Is Michel de la Forêt within?” he called; then stopped short, as though astonished, seeing Angèle.
“So! so!” he said, with a contemptuous laugh.
Michel de la Forêt’s fingers twitched. He quickly stepped in front of Angèle, and answered: “What is your business here, my lord?”