“You knew her, then?”
“No, sire! I saw her a few days ago for the first time. But she had already won my heart at our first meeting, and I feel that I shall love her. Exercise forbearance, then, your majesty!”
But the king was still thoughtful, and Catharine’s answers did not yet satisfy him.
“Why, then, do you interest yourself for this young lady, if you did not know her?”
“She has been so warmly recommended to me.”
“By whom?”
Catharine hesitated a moment; she felt that she had, perhaps, in her zeal, gone too far, and that it was imprudent to tell the king the truth. But the king’s keen, penetrating look was resting on her, and she recollected that he had, the first thing that evening, so urgently and solemnly conjured her to always tell him the truth. Besides, it was no secret at court who the protector of this young maiden was, and who had been the means of her obtaining the place of maid of honor to the queen, a place which so many wealthy and distinguished families had solicited for their daughters.
“Who recommended this lady to you?” repeated the king, and already his ill-humor began to redden his face, and make his voice tremble.
“Archbishop Cranmer did so, sire,” said Catharine as she raised her eyes to the king, and looked at him with a smile surpassingly charming.
At that moment was heard without, more loudly, the roll of drums, which nevertheless was partially drowned by piercing shrieks and horrible cries of distress. The blaze of the fire shot up higher, and now was seen the bright flame, which with murderous rage licked the sky above.