“You may be sure that they do deserve it. For Henry Howard is a noble and true poet, and his verses are full of heavenly melody and exalted thoughts.”
The queen smiled. “Yes,” said she, “you love him ardently; for you have no doubt as to him. We will, therefore, recognize him as a great poet. But with what shall I reward him?”
“Give him a rose that you wear in your bosom—a rosette that is fastened to your dress and shows your colors.”
“But alas, Jane, to-day I wear neither a rose nor a rosette.”
“Yet you can wear one, queen. A rosette is, indeed, wanting here on your shoulder. Your purple mantle is too negligently fastened. We must put some trimming here.”
She went hastily into the next room and returned with the box in which were kept the queen’s ribbons embroidered with gold, and bows adorned with jewels.
Lady Jane searched and selected, here and there, a long time. Then she took the crimson velvet rosette, which she herself had previously thrown into the box, and showed it to the queen.
“See, it is at the same time tasteful and rich, for a diamond clasp confines it in the middle. Will you allow me to fasten this rosette on your shoulder, and will you give it to the Earl of Surrey?”
“Yes, Jane, I will give it to him, because you wish it. But, poor Jane, what do, you gain by my doing it?”
“At any rate, a friendly smile, queen.”