The king sank back in his seat, and a real roar of fury sounded from his lips. It made the women turn pale, and even the men felt themselves tremble.
Catharine alone had not heeded it at all; she alone had heard nothing save that cry of amazement which Thomas Seymour uttered; and she saw only the angry and up-braiding looks which he threw across at her. She answered these looks with a friendly and confident smile, and pressed both her hands to her heart, as she looked at him.
“I will justify myself before him at least,” thought she.
The king had recovered from his first shock. He again raised himself up, and his countenance now exhibited a fearful, threatening coolness.
“You confess, then,” asked he, “that you were not in your sleeping-room on that night?”
“I have already said so,” exclaimed Catharine, impatiently. The king compressed his lips so violently, that they bled. “And a man was with you?” asked he—“a man with whom you made an assignation, and whom you received in the lonely tower?”
“A man was with me. But I did not receive him in the lonely tower; and it was no assignation.”
“Who was that man?” yelled the king. “Answer me! Tell me his name, if you do not want me to strangle you myself!”
“King Henry, I fear death no longer!” said Catharine, with a contemptuous smile.
“Who was that man? Tell me his name!” yelled the king once more.