he people in that castle, and very
soon after, most of the people in that land would know what he was about
to say.

'Write now,' he said. '"Henry--by the grace of God--Defender of the
Faith--King, Lord Paramount."' He stirred in his chair.

'Set down all my styles and titles: "Duke
Palatine--Earl--Baron--Knight"--leave out nothing, for I will show how
mighty I am.' He hummed, considered, set his head on one side and then
began to speak swiftly--

'Set it down thus: "We, Henry, and the rest, being a very mighty King,
such as few have been, are become a very humble man. A man broken by
years, having suffered much. A man humbled to the dust, crawling to kiss
the wounds of his Redeemer. A Lord of many miles both of sea and land."
Why, say--

'"Guide and Leader of many legions, yet comes he to thee for guidance."
Say, too, "He who was proud cometh to thee to regain his pride. He who
was proud in things temporal cometh to thee that he may once more have
the pride of a champion in Christendom----"'

He had been speaking as if with a malicious glee, for his words seemed
to strike, each one, into the face of the pallid figure, darkly standing
before him. And he was aware that each word increased the stiff and
watchful constraint of the figure that knelt beside the table to write.
But suddenly his glee left him; he scowled at the Archbishop as if
Cranmer had caused him to sin. He pulled at the collar around his
throat.

'No,' he cried out, 'write down in simple words that I am a very sinful
man. Set it down that I grow old! That I am filled with fears for my
poor soul! That I have sinned much! That I recall all that I have done!
An old man, I come to my Saviour's Regent upon earth. A man aware of
error, I will make restitution tenfold! Say I am broken and aged and
afraid! I kneel down on the ground----'

He cast his inert mass suddenly a little forward as if indeed he were
about to come on to his knees in the rushes.

'Say----' he muttered--'say----'

But his face and his eyes became suffused with blood.

'It is a very difficult thing,' he uttered huskily, 'to meddle in these
sacred matters.'

He fell heavily back into his chair-straps once more.

'I do not know what I will have you to say,' he said.

He looked broodingly at the floor.

'I do not know,' he muttered.

He rolled his eyes, first to the face of the Archbishop, then to
Lascelles--

'Body of God--what carved turnips!' he said, for in the one face