SIMON RENARD.
Yet yesterday, your Majesty ordered the execution to take place to-day.
THE QUEEN.
As I ordered the day before, that the execution should take place yesterday. As I ordered Sunday that the execution should take place Monday. To-day I ordered the execution to take place to-morrow.
SIMON RENARD.
As a matter of fact, since the second Sunday in Advent, when the decision was pronounced in the Star Chamber, and the two criminals came back to the Tower preceded by the executioner with the ax turned toward them—and that was three weeks ago—every day since then your Majesty has put the matter off until to-morrow.
THE QUEEN.
Well, can't you understand what that means, sir? Must I explain everything, and must a woman be forced to show her naked heart to you, because she is a Queen—unfortunate woman that she is—and because you represent the Prince of Spain, her future husband? You don't understand, you men, that with a woman the heart has its chastity as well as the body. Well, then, yes—since you want to know, since you make believe that you don't understand anything—yes, every day I put off Fabiani's execution until to-morrow, because every morning my courage fails me when I think that the bell of the Tower of London will ring out his death-knell; because to think they are sharpening an ax for that man, breaks my heart; because it kills me to think they will nail a coffin over him; because I am a woman, because I am weak, because I am insane, because I love him yet, my God! There! have you got enough? Are you satisfied? Do you understand now? Oh, some day, my lord, I will have my revenge on you, for all these things you have made me tell you!
SIMON RENARD.
Yet it ought to be about time to get through with this Fabiani! You expect to marry my royal master, the Prince of Spain, madame!