“And for the demoiselle Angele Aubert, who loves him, your Majesty.”
“I sent for this gentleman exile a fortnight ago—” She turned towards Leicester inquiringly.
“I have the papers here, your Majesty,” said Leicester, and gave a packet over.
“And where have you De la Foret?” said Elizabeth. “In durance, your Majesty.”
“When came he hither?”
“Three days gone,” answered Leicester, a little gloomily, for there was acerbity in Elizabeth’s voice. Elizabeth seemed about to speak, then dropped her eyes upon the papers, and glanced hastily at their contents.
“You will have this Michel de la Foret brought to my presence as fast as horse can bring him, my Lord,” she said to Leicester. “This rascal of the sea—Buonespoir—you will have safe bestowed till I recall his existence again,” she said to a captain of men-at-arms; “and you, Monsieur of Rozel, since you are my butler, will get you to my dining-room, and do your duty—the office is not all perquisites,” she added smoothly. She was about to move on, when a thought seemed to strike her, and she added, “This Mademoiselle and her father whom you brought hither-where are they?”
“They are even within the palace grounds, your imperial Majesty,” answered Lempriere.
“You will summon them when I bid you,” she said to the Seigneur; “and you shall see that they have comforts and housing as befits their station,” she added to the Lord Chamberlain.
So did Elizabeth, out of a whimsical humour, set the highest in the land to attend upon unknown, unconsidered exiles.