s
could I hardly wait till evening fell, and when upon occasion thou
didst not come, I was so angry I said I hated thee. What must thou
have thought of me, so forward and bold! And that afternoon! Ah! I
think of it every hour, and see and hear it all, and live it o'er
and o'er, as it sweeter grows with memory's ripening touch. Some
moments there are, that send their glad ripple down through life's
stream to the verge of the grave, and truly blest is one who can
smile upon and kiss these memory waves, and draw from thence a
bliss that never fails. But thou knowest full well my heart, and I
need not tease thee with its outpourings.

"There is yet another matter of which I wish to write in very
earnestness. Sir Edwin spoke to me thereof, and what he said hath
given me serious thought. I thank him for his words, of which he
will tell thee in full if thou but importune him thereto. It is
this: the Dauphin, Francis d'Angouleme, hath fallen desperately
fond of me, and is quite as importunate, and almost as foolish as
the elder lover. This people, in this strange land of France,
have, in sooth, some curious notions. For an example thereto: no
one thinks to find anything unseeming in the dauphin's conduct, by
reason of his having already a wife, and more, that wife the
Princess Claude, daughter to the king. I laugh at him and let him
say what he will, for in truth I am powerless to prevent it. Words
cannot scar even a rose leaf, and will not harm me. Then, by his
help and example I am justified in the eyes of the court in that I
so treat the king, which otherwise it were impossible for me to do
and live here. So, however much I may loathe them, yet I am driven
to tolerate his words, which I turn off with a laugh, making sure,
thou mayest know, that it come to nothing more than words. And
thus it is, however much I wish it not, that I do use him to help
me treat the king as I like, and do then use the poor old king as
my buckler against this duke's too great familiarity. But my
friend, when the king comes to die then shall I have my fears of
this young Francis d'Angouleme. He is desperate for me, and I know
not to what length he might go. The king cannot live long, as the
thread of his life is like rotten flax, and when he dies thou must
come without delay, since I shall be in deadly peril. I have a
messenger waiting at all hours ready to send to thee upon