“That, however, is very doubtful,” replied he to himself. “But it is certain that Catharine will one day be the regent, and if I am at that time her husband, then I am Regent of England.”
This was the secret of his duplicity and his double treachery. Thomas Seymour loved nothing but himself, nothing but his ambition. He was capable of risking his life for a woman; but for renown and greatness he would have gladly sacrificed this woman.
For him there was only one aim, one struggle: to be come great and powerful above all the nobles of the kingdom—to be the first man in England. And to reach this aim, he would be afraid of no means; he would shrink from no treachery and no sin.
Like the disciples of Loyola, he said, in justification of himself, “the end sanctifies the means.”
And thus for him every means was right which conducted him to the end; that is to say, to greatness and glory.
He was firmly convinced that he loved the queen ardently; and in his nobler hours he did really love her. Depending on the moment, a son of the hour, in him feeling and will varied with the rapidity of lightning, and he ever was wholly and completely that with which the moment inflamed him.
When, therefore, he stood before the queen, he did not lie when he swore that he loved her passionately. He really loved her, with double warmth, since she had to his mind in some sort identified herself with his ambition. He adored her, because she was the means that might conduct him to his end; because she might some day hold in her hands the sceptre of England. And on the day when this came to pass, he wished to be her lover and her lord. She had accepted him as her lord, and he was entirely certain of his future sway.
Consequently he loved the queen, but his proud and ambitious heart could never be so completely animated by one love as that there should not be room in it for a second, provided this second love presented him a favorable chance for the attainment of the aim of his life.
Princess Elizabeth had this chance. And if the queen would certainly become one day Regent of England, yet Elizabeth might some day perchance become queen thereof. Of course, it was as yet only a perhaps, but one might manage out of this perhaps to make a reality. Besides, this young, passionate child loved him, and Thomas Seymour was himself too young and too easily excitable to be able to despise a love that presented him with such enticing promises and bright dreams of the future.
“It does not become a man to live for love alone,” said he to himself as he now thought over the events of the night. “He must struggle for the highest and wish to reach the greatest, and no means of attaining this end ought he to leave unemployed. Besides, my heart is large enough to satisfy a twofold love. I love them both—both of these fair women who fetch me a crown. Let fate decide to which of the two I shall one day belong!”