last Mary
uttered, and her voice was taunting and malicious--

'If you will soften my heart much you must beseech me.'

'Why, I will kneel to you,' the Queen said.

'Aye, you shall,' Mary answered. 'Tell me what you would have of me.'

'Well you know!' Katharine said again.

In the darkness the lady's voice maintained its bitter mirth, as it were
the broken laughter of a soul in anguish.

'I will have you tell me, for it is a shameful tale that will shame you
in the telling.'

The Queen paused to consider of her words.

'First, you shall be reconciled with, and speak pleasantly with, the
King your father and my lord.'

'And is it not a shameful thing you bid me do, to bid me speak pleasant
words to him that slew my mother and called me bastard?'

The Queen answered that she asked it in the name of Christ, His pitiful
sake, and for the good of this suffering land.

'None the less, Queen, thou askest it in the darkness that thy face may
not be seen. And what more askest thou?'

'That when the Duke of Orleans his ambassadors come asking your hand in
marriage, you do show them a pleasant and acquiescent countenance.'

The sacredness of that dark place kept Mary from laughing aloud.

'That, too, you dare not ask in the light of day, Queen,' she said. 'Ask
on!'

'That when the Emperor's ambassadors shall ask for your hand you shall
profess yourself glad indeed.'

'Well, here is more shame, that I should be prayed to feign this
gladness. I think the angels do laugh that hear you. Ask even more.'

Katharine said patiently--

'That, having in reward of these favours, been set again on high, having
honours shown you and a Court appointed round you, you shall gladly play
the part of a princess royal to these realms, never gibing, nor sneering
upon this King your father, nor calling upon the memory of the wronged
Queen your mother.'

'Queen,' the Lady Mary said, 'I had thought that even in the darkness
you had not dared to ask me this.'

'I will ask it you again,' the Queen said, 'in your room where the light
of the candles shines upon my face.'

'Why, you shall,' the Lady Mary said. 'Let us presently go there.'

* * * * *

They went down the dark and winding stair. At the foot the procession of
the _coucher de la royne_ awaited them, first being two trumpeters in
black and gold, then four pikemen with lanthorns, then the marshal of
the Queen's household and five or seven