With a little gasp of rage Elizabeth leaned over and slapped his face with her long glove. “Death of my life! but I who made you do unmake you,” she cried.
He dropped his hand on his sword. “If you were but a man—and not—” he said, then stopped short, for there was that in the Queen’s face which changed his purpose.
Anger was shaking her, but there were tears in her eyes. The woman in her was stronger than the queen. It was nothing to her at this moment that she might have his life as easily as she had struck his face with her glove; this man had once shown the better part of himself to her, and the memory of it shamed her for his own sake now. She made a step towards the door, then turned and spoke:
“My lord, I have no palace and no ground wherein your footstep will not be trespass. Pray you, remember.”
She turned towards Lemprière, who lay on his couch faint and panting. “For you, my Lord of Rozel, I wish you better health, though you have lost it somewhat in a good cause.”
Her glance fell on De la Forêt. Her look softened. “I will hear you preach next Sunday, sir.”
There was an instant’s pause, and then she said to Angèle, with gracious look and in a low voice: “You have heard from me that calumny which the innocent never escape. To try you, I neglected you these many days; to see your nature even more truly than I knew it, I accused you but now. You might have been challenged first by one who could do you more harm than Elizabeth of England, whose office is to do good, not evil. Nets are spread for those whose hearts are simple, and your feet have been caught. Be thankful that we understand; and know that Elizabeth is your loving friend. You have had trials—I have kept you in suspense—there has been trouble for us all; but we are better now; our minds are more content; so all may be well, please God! You will rest this night with our lady-dove here, and to-morrow early you shall return in peace to your father. You have a good friend in our cousin.” She made a gentle motion towards the Duke’s Daughter. “She has proved it so. In my leech she has a slave. To her you owe this help in time of need. She hath wisdom, too, and we must listen to her, even as I have done this day.”
She inclined her head towards the door. Leicester opened it, and as she passed out she gave him one look which told him that his game was lost, if not forever, yet for time uncertain and remote. “You must not blame the leech, my lord,” she said, suddenly turning back. “The Queen of England has first claim on the duty of her subjects. They serve me for love; you they help at need as time-servers.”