Harry looked up and struggled to collect himself. "Not till you are in safety," he said, and was dully aware of some discomfort. The dying woman, the sheer ugliness of death, the sordid emotions about her numbed the life in him. He felt himself in a world inhuman. Yet, even afterwards, he seems not to have discovered anything ignoble in his admired Pretender. The blame was fate's that mocked coldly at the hopes and affections of men.
"I am obliged, sir," said the Pretender, and so they waited together….
After a little while of gloomy silence in that bare room, Masham broke in, beckoning and muttering: "Sir, sir, the Queen is dead."
The Pretender stood up. "Enfin" said he, with a shrug.
CHAPTER XXV
SAUVE QUI PEUT
"Sir, you must be gone instantly," says Masham.
"You are officious, my lord." The Pretender stared at him. "I have nothing to fear."
"I warrant you have," Masham cried. "And so have others."
"I believe that, pardieu. Come, my lord, command yourself. Where is this Council? I may still show myself to the lords and challenge them."