He bowed, but not low, and it was clear he was bent upon a struggle. He was confounded by the Queen’s presence—he could not guess why she should have come; and that she was prepared for what she saw was clear.
“And brought an eloquent pleader with you?” She made a scornful gesture towards Angèle.
“Nay, your Majesty; the lady’s zeal outran my own, and crossed the threshold first.”
The Queen’s face wore a look that Leicester had never seen on it before, and he had observed it in many moods.
“You found the lady here, then?”
“With monsieur, alone. Seeing she was placed unfortunately, I offered to escort her hence to her father. But your Majesty came upon the moment.”
There was a ring of triumph in Leicester’s voice. No doubt, by some chance, the Queen had become aware of Angèle’s presence, he thought. Fate had forestalled the letter he had already written on this matter, and meant to send her within the hour. Chance had played into his hands with perfect suavity. The Queen, less woman now than queen, enraged by the information got he knew not how, had come at once to punish the gross breach of her orders and a dark misconduct—so he thought.
The Queen’s look, as she turned it on Angèle, apparently had in it what must have struck terror to even a braver soul than that of the helpless Huguenot girl.