"Yea, most certainly," returned the Queen, raising her soft eyes to the breathless lady.
"I saw John Pym to-day," cried the Countess, "and methought he had an air of triumph; besides, would the very boys in the street dare shout at me unless my lord's fall were assured?"
She twisted her hands together and sank on to a brocade stool near the window. The Queen slightly lifted her shoulders and smiled. She bitterly detested the English, who in their turn loathed her, both for her nationality and her religion, and even for the name "Mary," which the King gave her, and which was for ever connected in the popular mind with Papistry and with two queens who had been enemies of England. Therefore she was well-used to unpopularity and that hatred of the crowd of which Lady Strafford to-day had had a first taste.
"Why discourage yourself about that, madam?" she asked. "These creatures are not to be regarded."
"The House of Commons is to be regarded," returned Lady Strafford.
She spoke, despite herself, in a tone of respect for the power that threatened her husband, and the Frenchwoman's smile deepened.
"How afraid you all are of this Parliament," she said.
"Has it not lately shown that it is something to be afraid of?" cried the Countess.
The Queen continued to carefully select the tiny glass beads and to carefully thread them on the long white silk thread. To the Countess, who had never loved her, this absorption, at such an hour, in an occupation so trivial, was exasperating.