The Queen looked at Anthony, puzzled a moment; and then chuckled loudly in her throat.
“The impertinent minx!” she said, “that was when I had clouted her, no doubt.”
Again they walked up and down in silence a little while. Anthony began to wonder whether this was all for which the Queen had sent for him. He was astonished at his own self-possession; all the trembling awe with which he had faced the Queen at Greenwich was gone; he had forgotten for the moment even his own peril; and he felt instead even something of pity for this passionate old woman, who had aged so quickly, whose favourites one by one were dropping off, or at the best giving her only an exaggerated and ridiculous devotion, at the absurdity of which all the world laughed. Here was this old creature at his side, surrounded by flatterers and adventurers, advancing through the world in splendid and jewelled raiment, with trumpets blowing before her, and poets singing her praises, and crowds applauding in the streets, and sneering in their own houses at the withered old virgin-Queen who still thought herself a Diana—and all the while this triumphal progress was at the expense of God’s Church, her car rolled over the bodies of His servants, and her shrunken, gemmed fingers were red in their blood;—so she advanced, thought Anthony, day by day towards the black truth and the eternal loneliness of the darkness that lies outside the realm where Christ only is King.
Elizabeth broke in suddenly on his thoughts.
“Now,” she said, “and what of you, Mr. Norris?”
“I am your Grace’s servant,” he said.
“I am not so sure of that,” said Elizabeth. “If you are my servant, why are you a priest, contrary to my laws?”
“Because I am Christ’s servant too, your Grace.”
“But Christ’s apostle said, ‘Obey them that have the rule over you.’”
“In indifferent matters, madam.”