“Shall I not see the king before I am taken to the Tower?” said Anne, upon whom the terror of her situation rushed with new force.
“His highness has quitted the castle,” replied Suffolk, “and there is no likelihood of his return to-night.”
“You tell me so to deceive me,” cried Anne. “Let me see him—let me throw myself at his feet! I can convince him of my innocence and move him to compassion! Let me see him, I implore of you—I charge you!”
“I swear to you, madam, that the king has departed for Hampton Court,” replied Suffolk.
“Then take me to him there, under strong guard, or as secretly as you please,” she cried passionately; “I will return with you instantly, if I am unsuccessful.”
“Were I to comply with your request it would be fruitless, madam,” replied Suffolk; “the king would not see you.”
“Oh, Suffolk!” cried Anne, prostrating herself before him, “I have shown you many kindnesses in my season of power, and have always stood your friend with the king. Do me this favour now; I will never forget it. Introduce me to the king. I am sure I can move his heart, if I can only see him.”
“It would cost me my head, madam,” said the duke in an inexorable tone. “Rise, I pray you.”
“You are more cruel than the king,” said Anne, obeying. “And now, my lords,” she continued with more composure and dignity, “since you refuse my last request, and plainly prove to me the sort of justice I may expect, I will not detain you longer. I shall be ready to attend you to the Tower tomorrow.”
“The barge will proceed an hour before dawn,” said Suffolk.