She nodded at him mutely with large eyes and compressed lips.
“Oh, my God,” said Anthony; and then again, “O God.”
She took up one of his brown young hands and pressed it gently between her white slender ones.
“I know,” she said, “I know; he is a gallant gentleman.”
Anthony stood up shaking; and sat down again. The horror had goaded him into clearer consciousness.
“Ah! what can we do?” he said brokenly. “Let me see the Queen. She will be merciful.”
“You must trust to me in this,” said Mary, “I know her; and I know that to go to her now would be madness. She is in a fury with Pinart to-day at something that has passed about the Duke. You know Monsieur is here; she kissed him the other day, and the Lord only knows whether she will marry him or not. You must wait a day or two; and be ready when I tell you.”
“But,” stammered Anthony, “every hour we wait, he suffers.”
“Oh, you cannot tell that,” said Mary, “they give them a long rest sometimes; and it was only yesterday that he was questioned.”
Anthony sat silently staring out on the fresh lawn; there was still a patch of frost under the shadow of the hedge he noticed.