She opened it and read. Her fine countenance expressed horror and amazement; a low exclamation escaped her lips. But Elizabeth had a strong and resolute soul; and the unexpected and the surprising did not dull her clear vision, nor cloud her sharp wit. The queen was in danger. The queen was to be imprisoned. THAT, this dreadful paper shrieked in her ear; but she durst not allow herself to be stunned by it. She must act; she must warn the queen.
She hid the paper in her bosom, and light as a zephyr she floated away again out of the chamber.
With flashing eyes and cheeks reddened by her rapid race Elizabeth entered the queen’s chamber; with passionate vehemence she clasped her in her arms and tenderly kissed her.
“Catharine, my queen, and my mother,” said she, “we have sworn to stand by and protect each other when danger threatens us. Fate is gracious to me, for it has given into my hand the means of making good my oath this very day. Take that paper and read! It is an order for your imprisonment, made out by the king himself. When you have read it, then let us consider what is to be done, and how we can avert the danger from you.”
“An order of imprisonment!” said Catharine, with a shudder, as she read it. “An order of imprisonment—that is to say, a death-warrant! For when once the threshold of that frightful Tower is crossed, it denotes that it is never to be left again; and if a queen is arrested and accused, then is she also already condemned. Oh, my God, princess, do you comprehend that—to have to die while life still throbs so fresh and warm in our veins? To be obliged to go to death, while the future still allures us with a thousand hopes, a thousand wishes? My God, to have to descend into the desolate prison and into the gloomy grave, while the world greets us with alluring voices, and spring-tide has scarcely awoke in our heart!”
Streams of tears burst from her eyes, and she hid her face in her trembling hands.
“Weep not, queen,” whispered Elizabeth, herself trembling and pale as death. “Weep not; but consider what is to be done. Each minute, and the danger increases; each minute brings the evil nearer to us.”
“You are right,” said Catharine, as she again raised her head, and shook the tears from her eyes. “Yes, you are right; it is not time to weep and wail. Death is creeping upon me; but I—I will not die. I live still; and so long as there is a breath in me I will fight against death. God will assist me; God will help me to overcome this danger also, as I have already done so many others.”
“But what will you do? where can you begin? You know not the accusation. You know not who accuses you, nor with what you are charged.”
“Yet I suspect it!” said the queen, musingly. “When I now recall to mind the king’s angry countenance, and the malicious smile of that malignant priest, I believe I know the accusation. Yes—everything is now clear to me. Ah, it is the heretic that they would sentence to death. Well, now, my lord bishop, I still live; and—we will see which of us two will gain the victory!”