“No, my lord,” replied the abbess; “the Queen is not accustomed to change her mind, and will never act contrary to her judgment.”
The bishop looked surprised at the vivacity of the abbess, but Philip hastened to interpose, and said, “The lady abbess is right, my lord. I shall never seek to influence her Majesty’s opinions in aught that concerns her kingdom. That I have sworn—and by my oath I shall abide.”
“Unless his Holiness shall grant you absolution,” muttered the bishop.
Philip then briefly explained to the bishop and to his confessor why he had sent for them, and had just made an end, when Count D’Egmont entered, and said that M. de Noailles was without, and besought a moment’s audience of his Highness.
“What! the perfidious assassin! how dares he approach me? But he shall rue his temerity,” cried Philip, placing his hand on his sword. Then instantly becoming calm, he added, “but he could not have come more opportunely for my purpose. Admit him, D’Egmont. Once within this chamber, he is my prisoner. Place a guard at the door, and let him not go forth without my order.”
“No harm must be done him,” said the abbess, in a low, deep voice.
“I have not sent for him,” rejoined Philip. “If he rushes to his own destruction it is not my fault.”
“It was madness in him to come here at all,” said D’Egmont. “The Duke of Alva, who has heard of the attempt, and suspects De Noailles of its contrivance, is in the ante-chamber.”
“I am glad to hear it,” replied Philip. “The Duke will know how to act,” he added, with a significant glance at D’Egmont.
“If any injury be done the ambassador, there will be war with France,” observed the abbess, in the same low, deep tone as before.