"Art thou the man whom my husband saved from the river?"
"I am, lady; but, had he known me, I had been left to perish amid its waters."
"Thou art quite a youth, and a handsome one, too—a Frenchman, I think?"
"Nay, noble lady, I am of old Norway in the distant north; but a good Catholic, as I see thou art by thy crucifix."
"Our religion is a bond of friendship in these dangerous days of obdurate heresy," said the Countess, whose eyes lighted up; "but wherefore sayest thou my lord would rather thou hadst perished, though he risked his life to save thee?"
"Because," replied the other with a lowering brow, "I am the bearer of a secret that if, unfolded to thee, would make the Lord Bothwell slay me, even if I stood with the grace-cup on his own hearthstone."
"And what is this secret?" she asked with a hauteur that was assumed to hide her trembling curiosity.
"Excuse my revealing it, lady, and let me begone, I pray you, for an agony of anxiety oppresses me. One day, perhaps, you may—you must know all!"
"Now—tell me now, I implore thee? Behold this ring; it contains four diamonds, each worth I know not how many angels"—
"I am a gentleman, and a captain of arblastiers under Frederick of Denmark, and to me your bribe is proffered in vain. I repeat, madam, that I must decline to reveal the secret."