“Stay,” said Elizabeth, “that is insolence to my ministers.”
“So my lord said,” answered Anthony frankly, looking into that hard clear face that was beginning to be lined with age. And he saw that Elizabeth smiled, and that the face behind the chair nodded at him encouragingly.
“Well, insolence, go on.”
“It is on behalf of one who has been pronounced a felon and a traitor by your Grace’s laws, that I am pleading; but one who is a very gallant Christian gentleman as well.”
“Your friend lacks not courage,” interrupted Elizabeth to Mary.
“No, your Grace,” said the other, “that has never been considered his failing.”
Anthony waited, and then the voice spoke again harshly.
“Go on with the tale, sir. I cannot be here all day.”
“He is a popish priest, your Majesty; and he was taken at mass in his vestments, and is now in the Tower; and he hath been questioned on the rack. And, madam, it is piteous to think of it. He is but a young man still, but passing strong and tall.”
“What has this to do with me, sir?” interrupted the Queen harshly. “I cannot pardon every proper young priest in the kingdom. What else is there to be said for him?”