After a moment a slight sigh was heard.
“A death of infamy may not be,” murmured the Duke of Norfolk; “he has been lord chancellor!”
He leaned over toward Cromwell. “You have deceived me,” he said. “Decapitation is the only punishment which can be inflicted on him. He has been lord chancellor! Have you thought of that?”
“But,” replied Cromwell, “the law is positive; such is the penalty that follows the refusal of the oath.”
“The king will dispense with the gibbet,” said Norfolk angrily, “or I am not chief of his council!”
“We will see,” said Cromwell. “That will matter nothing, provided he dies,” he added to himself.
Lord Fitz-James had heard Norfolk’s remark, and, unable to restrain his tears, addressed him. “My lord,” he said in an oppressed voice, “the king might be willing to grant his pardon. Ask Sir Thomas
if he have not yet something to say. Perhaps, alas! perhaps he may be induced to make some act of submission.”
Norfolk made a sign of approval. “Sir Thomas,” he said, “you have heard what are the rigors of the law, and the penalty that your inconceivable obstinacy calls down upon your head. Speak, then; have you nothing to reply that may give us the means of mitigating it?”
Sir Thomas raised his head, and looked at him for a moment with an expression of calmness, of gentleness, benevolence, and dignity which it is impossible for any human pen to describe. “Noble duke,” he answered, “no, I have nothing more to say; I have only to submit to the sentence you have passed on me. There was a time when you honored me with the name of friend; I dare believe that I still remain worthy of it. I regard the words you have addressed to me as a souvenir of that good-will, old and proven, which you have felt for me. I would thank you for it at this last moment; for I hope that we may meet again in a better world, where all these dissensions shall have