owledge of any of the
inmates.

We four remained in silence, enjoined by the king, and in the course
of an hour, the princess, supposing every one had gone, came down
stairs and walked into the room where we were waiting.

It was a scurvy trick, and I felt a contempt for the men who had
planned it. I could see that Mary's first impulse was to beat a hasty
retreat back into her citadel, the bed, but in truth she had in her
make-up very little disposition to retreat. She was clear grit. What a
man she would have made! But what a crime it would have been in nature
to have spoiled so perfect a woman. How beautiful she was! She threw
one quick, surprised glance at her brother and his companions, and
lifting up her exquisite head carelessly hummed a little tune under
her breath as she marched to the other end of the room with a gait
that Juno herself could not have improved upon.

I saw the king smile, half in pride of her, and half in amusement, and
the Frenchman's little eyes feasted upon her beauty with a relish that
could not be mistaken.

Henry and the ambassador spoke a word in whispers, when the latter
took a box from a huge side pocket and started across the room toward
Mary with the king at his heels.

Her side was toward them when they came up, but she kept her attitude
as if she had been of bronze. She had taken up a book that was lying
on the table and was examining it as they approached.

De Longueville held the box in his hand, and bowing and scraping said
in broken English: "Permit to me, most gracious princess, that I may
have the honor to offer on behalf of my august master, this little
testament of his high admiration and love." With this he bowed again,
smiled like a crack in a piece of old parchment, and held his box
toward Mary. It was open, probably in the hope of enticing her with a
sight of its contents--a beautiful diamond necklace.

She turned her face ever so little and took it all in with one
contemptuous, sneering glance out of the corners of her eyes. Then
quietly reaching out her hand she grasped the necklace and
deliberately dashed it in poor old de Longueville's face.

"There is my answer, sir! Go home and tell your imbecile old master I
scorn his suit and hate him--hate him--hate him!" Then with the tears
falling unheeded down her cheeks, "Master Wolsey, you butcher's cur!
This trick was of your conception; the others had not brains enough to
think of it. Are you not proud to have o