er to your Majesty and no liar. I am Lempriere of
Rozel."

No man's self-control could meet such a surprise without wavering.
Leicester was confounded, for he had not known that Lempriere was housed
with De la Foret. For a moment he could do naught but gaze at Lempriere.
Then, as the Seigneur suddenly swayed and would have fallen, the
instinct of effective courtesy, strong in him, sent him with arms
outstretched to lift him up. Together, without a word, he and De la
Foret carried him to the couch and laid him down. That single act saved
Leicester's life. There was something so naturally (though, in truth,
it was so hypocritically) kind in the way he sprang to his enemy's
assistance that an old spirit of fondness stirred in the Queen's breast,
and she looked strangely at him. When, however, they had disposed of
Lempriere and Leicester had turned again towards her, she said: "Did you
think I had no loyal and true gentlemen at my Court, my lord? Did you
think my leech would not serve me as fair as he would serve the Earl of
Leicester? You have not bought us all, Robert Dudley, who have bought
and sold so long. The good leech did your bidding and sent your note
to the lady; but there your bad play ended and Fate's began. A rabbit's
brains, Leicester--and a rabbit's end. Fate has the brains you need."

Leicester's anger burst forth now under the lash of ridicule. "I cannot
hope to win when your Majesty plays Fate in caricature."

With a little gasp of rage Elizabeth leaned over and slapped his face
with her long glove. "Death of my life, but I who made you do unmake
you!" she cried.

He dropped his hand on his sword. "If you were but a man, and not--" he
said, then stopped short, for there was that in the Queen's face which
changed his purpose. Anger was shaking her, but there were tears in her
eyes. The woman in her was stronger than the Queen. It was nothing to
her at this moment that she might have his life as easily as she had
struck his face with her glove; this man had once shown the better part
of himself to her, and the memory of it shamed her for his own sake now.
She made a step towards the door, then turned and spoke:

"My Lord, I have no palace and no ground wherein your footstep will not
be trespass. Pray you, remember."

She turned towards Lempriere, who lay on his couch faint and panting.
"For you, my Lord of Rozel, I wish you better health, though you have
lost it somewhat in a good cause."

Her glanc