For an instant there was dead silence in the chamber. An expression of fury crossed the queen’s face. She half rose from her couch, and then sank back upon it.
“We were near forgetting, Sir Malapert, that thou hadst not had benefit of court life. Thy manners must be mended ere thou dost come into our presence again. Go! you weary me. Come near me no more. And he is a pupil of Greville’s!” Francis heard her exclaim as she hurried away. “My life, the boy is duller than he looks!”
Full of consternation at what she had done, angry and resentful also, Francis sought her parents to relate the incident to them.
“Oh, child, child,” moaned the mother. “What hast thou done! What hast thou done!”
“My mother, was it not the truth? Thou art fairer; a thousand times fairer than she. She is an ugly old woman——”
“My daughter,” interrupted Lord Stafford, “say no more. Elizabeth is the queen, and whatever may be her weaknesses and faults she is still the queen. And mark you, child! though she hath many faults she hath also 110 great virtues. For this reason her people overlook her vanity and exalt her. She is a queen, but she is also a woman. Thou art too young to understand all that that means yet. Now, let me think how to make amends.”
“She said that I was to come near her no more while she remained. I am sorry if I did wrong in speaking so, but still it is the truth. My mother is the fairer.”
“Hush, hush,” whispered the lady drawing her close. “’Tis treason, child. What doth it matter to us whether or no I am the fairer. It bodes us ill to say so. Oh, child, I am afeared.”
“Let us ask Greville to aid us,” said Lord Stafford. “Mayhap he can suggest a remedy, for well doth he ken Elizabeth’s humors.”