"Well," asked she, "do you confess it? Will you acknowledge that your proud, cold heart is obliged to declare itself overcome and conquered?""Yes, I confess it," cried Lady Jane, as with passionate vehemence she threw herself at Catharine's feet. "Yes, I love him--I adore him. I know it is a disdained and unhappy love; but what would you have? My heart is mightier than everything else. I love him; he is my god and my lord; I adore him as my savior and lord. Queen, you know all my secret; betray me if you will! Tell it to my father, if you wish him to curse me. Tell it to Henry Howard, if it pleases you to hear how he scoffs at me. For he, queen--he loves me not!""Poor unfortunate Jane!" exclaimed the queen, compassionately.
Jane uttered a low cry, and rose from her knees. That was too much.
Her enemy commiserated her. She, who was to blame for her sorrow--she bemoaned her fate.
Ah, she could have strangled the queen; she could have plunged a dagger into her heart, because she dared to commiserate her.
"I have complied with your condition, queen," said she, breathing hurriedly. "Will you now comply with my request?""And will you really be an advocate for this unthankful, cruel man, who does not love you? Proudly and coldly he passes your beauty by, and you--you intercede for him!""Queen, true love thinks not of itself! It sacrifices itself. It makes no question of the reward it receives, but only of the happiness which it bestows. I saw in his pale, sorrowful face, how much he suffered; ought I not to think of comforting him? Iapproached him, I addressed him; I heard his despairing lamentation over that misfortune, which, however, was not the fault of his activity and courage, but, as all the world saw, the fault of his horse, which was shy and stumbled. And as he, in all the bitterness of his pain, was lamenting that you, queen, would despise and scorn him, I, with full trust in your noble and magnanimous heart, promised him that you would, at my request, yet give him to-day, before your whole court, a token of your favor. Catharine, did I do wrong?""No, Jane, no! You did right; and your words shall be made good. But how shall I begin? What shall I do?""The earl this evening, after the king has read the Greek scene with Croke, will recite some new sonnets which he has composed. When he has done so, give him some kind of a present--be it what it may, no matter--as a token of your favor.""But how, Jane, if his sonnets deserve no praise and no acknowledgment?
You may be sure that they do deserve it. For Henry Howard is a noble and true poet, and his verses are full of heavenly melody and exalted thoughts."The queen smiled. "Yes," said she, "you love him ardently; for you have no doubt as to him. We will, therefore, recognize him as a great poet. But with what shall I reward him?""Give him a rose that you wear in your bosom--a rosette that is fastened to your dress and shows your colors."" But alas, Jane, to-day I wear neither a rose nor a rosette.""Yet you can wear one, queen. A rosette is, indeed, wanting here on your shoulder. Your purple mantle is too negligently fastened. We must put some trimming here."She went hastily into the next room and returned with the box in which were kept the queen's ribbons embroidered with gold, and bows adorned with jewels.
Lady Jane searched and selected, here and there, a long time. Then she took the crimson velvet rosette, which she herself had previously thrown into the box, and showed it to the queen.
"See, it is at the same time tasteful and rich, for a diamond clasp confines it in the middle. Will you allow me to fasten this rosette on your shoulder, and will you give it to the Earl of Surrey?""Yes, Jane, I will give it to him, because you wish it. But, poor Jane, what do, you gain by my doing it?""At any rate, a friendly smile, queen.""And is that enough for you? Do you love him so much, then?""Yes, I love him!" said Jane Douglas, with a sigh of pain, as she fastened the rosette on the queen's shoulder.
"And now, Jane, go and announce to the master of ceremonies that Iam ready, as soon as the king wishes it, to resort to the gallery."Lady Jane turned to leave the chamber. But, already upon the threshold, she returned once more.
"Forgive me, queen, for venturing to make one more request of you.
You have, however, just shown yourself too much the noble and true friend of earlier days for me not to venture one more request.""Now, what is it, poor Jane?""I have intrusted my secret not to the queen, but to Catharine Parr, the friend of my youth. Will she keep it, and betray to none my disgrace and humiliation?""My word for that, Jane. Nobody but God and ourselves shall ever know what we have spoken."Lady Jane humbly kissed her hand and murmured a few words of thanks;then she left the queen's room to go in quest of the master of ceremonies.
In the queen's anteroom she stopped a moment, and leaned against the wall, exhausted, and as it were crushed. Nobody was here who could observe and listen to her. She had no need to smile, no need to conceal, beneath a calm and equable appearance, all those tempestuous and despairing feelings which were working within. She could allow her hatred and her resentment, her rage and her despair, to pour forth in words and gestures, in tears and imprecations, in sobs and sighs. She could fall on her knees and beseech God for grace and mercy, and call on the devil for revenge and destruction.
When she had so done, she arose, and her demeanor resumed its wonted cold and calm expression. Only her cheeks were still paler; only a still gloomier fire darted from her eyes, and a scornful smile played about her thin, compressed lips.
She traversed the rooms and corridors, and now she entered the king's anteroom. As she observed Gardiner, who was standing alone and separated from the rest in the embrasure of the window, she went up to him; and John Heywood, who was still hidden behind the curtain, shuddered at the frightful and scornful expression of her features.
