‘Sovereign lady,’ said the Italian, ‘here is one who will never deny you anything.’
As he knelt my lord recovered his dignity. ‘It is not convenient, madam——’
Ah, but she faced about. ‘Convenient! convenient! To end what you have begun? You! that led me to him! You that drove us in with your breath like a sheet of flame!’
He put up his hand, driven to defend himself. ‘Nay, madam, nay! It cannot be said. My design was never adopted—it was misunderstood. I bowed to no idols—that be far from me. I was outside the door. I neither know what was done within your chapel, nor afterwards within any chambers of the house. My only office was——’
She held herself by the throat—all gathered together, as if she would spring at him.
Signior Davy looked mildly from one to the other. ‘Scusì,’ he said, his voice soft as milk, ‘but your lordship was not outside all doors. I know to a point how much your lordship knows.’
The Earl gasped for breath.
At this point the Queen seemed to have got strength through the hands. She let them down from her neck, as if the spasm had passed. Her heart spoke—a lyric cry. ‘He brought me to the chamber door, and kissed my cheek, and wished me joy!’ She spoke like one enrapt, a disembodied sprite, as if the soul could have seen the body in act, and now rehearse the tale. ‘He led me to the chamber door, and kissed my cheek! “Sweet night,” says he, “sweet sister! See how your dreams come true.” And “Burning cheek!” says he; and “Fie, fie, the wild blood of a lass!” I think my cheek did prophesy, and burn for the shame to come.’ She turned them a tragic shape—drawn mouth, great eyes, expository hands. ‘Why, sirs, if a groom trick a poor wench and deny her her lines, you put her up in a sheet, and freeze the vice out of her with your prying eyes! Get you a white sheet for Queen Mary and stare the devil out of her! Go you: why do you wait? Ah, pardon, I had forgot!’ She exhibited one to the other. ‘This man has no time to spare that he may chastise the naughty. The throned is made shameful that the throne may be emptied. Give him a leg, David; he will stand your friend for it.’
‘Dear madam! sweet madam!’ murmured the Italian.
But she had left him now for the white skulker by the door. ‘Oh you, you, you, in your hurry!’ she mocked him, ‘deny me not my shroud and candle. For if you are to sit in my seat I will stand at the kirk gate and cry into all hearts that go by, “See me here as I stand in my shroud. I am the threshold he trod upon. He reached his degree o’er the spoils of a girl.”’ She came closer to him, peering and whispering. ‘And I will be nearer, my lord, whenas you are dead. I will flit over the graves of the kings my ancestors till I find the greenest, and there shall I sit o’ nights, chattering your tale to the men that be there with their true-born about them. “Ho, you that were lawful kings of Scotland, listen now to me!” I shall say. And they will lift their heads in their vaults and lean upon their bony elbows at ease and hear of your shameful birth and life of lies and treasons, and most miserable death. And you in your cerements will lie close, I think, my brother, lest the very dead turn their backs on you.’