“And it is thus you spend the hours of night? God’s faith, but you are young to be so wanton!” she cried, in a sharp voice. “Get you from my sight, and out of my kingdom as fast as horse and ship may carry you, as feet may bear you.” Leicester’s face lighted to hear.
“Your high Majesty,” pleaded the girl, dropping on her knees, “I am innocent. As God lives, I am innocent.”
“The man, then, only is guilty?” the Queen rejoined, with scorn. “Is it innocent to be here at night, my palace gates shut, with your lover—alone?” Leicester laughed at the words.
“Your Majesty, oh, your gracious Majesty, hear me. We were not alone—not alone—”
There was a rustle of curtains, a heavy footstep, and Lemprière of Rozel staggered into the room. De la Forêt ran to help him, and, throwing an arm around him, almost carried him towards the couch. Lemprière, however, slipped from De la Forêt’s grasp to his knees on the floor before the Queen.
“Not alone, your high and sacred Majesty—I am here—I have been here through all. I was here when mademoiselle came, brought hither by trick of some knave not fit to be your immortal Majesty’s subject. I speak the truth, for I am butler to your Majesty, and no liar. I am Lemprière of Rozel.”
No man’s self-control could meet such a surprise without wavering. Leicester was confounded, for he had not known that Lemprière was housed with De la Forêt. For a moment he could do naught but gaze at Lemprière. Then, as the seigneur suddenly swayed, and would have fallen, the instinct of effective courtesy, strong in him, sent him with arms outstretched to lift him up. Together, without a word, he and De la Forêt carried him to the couch and laid him down.
That single act saved Leicester’s life. There was something so naturally (though, in truth, it was so hypocritically) kind in the way he sprang to his enemy’s assistance that an old spirit of fondness stirred in the Queen’s breast, and she looked strangely at him. When, however, they had disposed of Lemprière, and Leicester had turned again towards her, she said:
“Did you think I had no loyal and true gentlemen at my court, my lord? Did you think my leech would not serve me as fair as he would serve the Earl of Leicester? Ye have not bought us all, Robert Dudley, who have bought and sold so long. The good leech did your bidding and sent your note to the lady; but there your bad play ended and Fate’s began. A rabbit’s brains, Leicester—and a rabbit’s end. Fate has the brains you need.”
Leicester’s anger burst forth now under the lash of ridicule. “I cannot hope to win when your Majesty plays Fate in caricature.”