“You think so now, Norris, because you are not king,” she replied. “But I am queen, and will remain so, till I am forced to abandon my dignity.”
“I understand, madam,” rejoined Norris gloomily. “But oh I bethink you to what risks you expose yourself. You know the king's terrible determination—his vindictiveness, his ferocity.”
“Full well,” she replied—“full well; but I will rather die a queen than live disgrace and ruined. In wedding Henry the Eighth, I laid my account to certain risks, and those I must brave.”
Before Norris could urge anything further, the door was suddenly opened, and a tall dark figure entered the chamber, and said hastily—“The king is at hand.”
“One word more, and it is my last,” said Norris to Anne. “Will you fly with me to-night?—all shall be ready.”
“I cannot,” replied Anne.
“Away!” cried Herne, dragging Norris forcibly behind the tapestry.
Scarcely had they disappeared when Henry entered the chamber. He was in a gayer mood than had been usual with him of late.
“I am come to tell you, madam,” he said, “that I am about to hold jousts in the castle on the first of May, at which your good brother and mine, the Lord Rochford, will be the challenger, while I myself shall be the defendant. You will adjudge the prize.”
“Why not make Jane Seymour queen of the jousts?” said Anne, unable to resist the remark.