At the exact moment that he did so, the ladies had turned, and saw what was going on; and while the two young men wrestled together, Cholmondely vainly trying to free his dagger-arm from Commendone's vice-like grip, there came a loud, angry voice which both knew well, booming through the pergolas of roses. The instant the great voice struck upon their ears they fell away from each other, arms dropped to their sides, breaths panting, eyes of hate and anger suddenly changed and full of apprehension.
There were one or two shrieks and feminine twitters, a rustle of silk skirts, a jangle of long silver chatelaines, and like a bouquet of flowers coming towards them, the queen's ladies hurried over the lawn; Her Grace's small form was a little in advance of the rest.
Queen Mary came up to them, her thin face suffused with passion.
"Sirs," she shouted, "what mean you by this? Are gentlemen of Our Court to brawl in Our gardens? By the Mass, it shall go very hard with you gentlemen. It——"
She saw Commendone.
Her voice changed in a second.
"Mr. Commendone! Mr. Commendone! You here? I had looked to see you hours agone. Where is——"
She had nearly said it, but a warning flash from the young man's eyes stayed the wild inquiry upon her lips. Clever as she was, the Queen caught herself up immediately.
"What is this, sir?" she said, more softly, and in Spanish.
Johnnie sank on one knee.