"Nay," said Rénèe gently. "I know there are reasons of State."
"Reasons of State?" shrieked Anne. "I love him and he loves me! You are jealous because you will never have such a knight!"
"Never, truly," replied the waiting-woman with undiminished sweetness. "It is only great ladies like Your Grace who can wed with such as the Prince of Orange."
"You would not marry save with a Lutheran," said Anne. "Then you would not marry the Prince?"
"That is a jest—to suppose such a thing."
"Ay, but would you?" insisted Anne.
Rénèe's native courage and honesty flashed through her long reserve, her self-effacement.
"I would not wed with a Papist were he the Emperor himself," she replied firmly.
"You proud hard creature!" cried Anne, vexed to tears. "But it is all a lie—a jealous lie, you would wed the first Papist who asked you."
Rénèe was silent.