t
toutes dances Anglaises ou Estranges, et en imagina nombre qui ont garde
son nom ou celluy du galant pour qui les feit: puis scavoit tous les
jeux, qu'elle jouoit avec non plus d'heur que d'habilite puis chantoit
comme syrene, s'accompagnant de luth; harpoit mieueix que le roy David,
et manioit fort gentilment fleuste et rebec; puis s'accoustroit de tant
et si merveilleuses facons, que ses inventions, faisoient d'elle le
parangon de toutes des dames les plus sucrees de la court; mais nulle
n'avoit sa grace, laquelle, au dire d'un ancien, passe venuste'." Such
was the opinion of one who knew her well during her residence at the
French court, when in attendance on Mary of England, consort of Louis
XII., and afterwards Duchess of Suffolk.

At this moment Anne's eyes were fixed with some tenderness upon one of
the supporters of her canopy on the right--a very handsome young man,
attired in a doublet and hose of black tylsent, paned and cut, and
whose tall, well-proportioned figure was seen to the greatest advantage,
inasmuch as he had divested himself of his mantle, for his better
convenience in walking.

"I fear me you will fatigue yourself, Sir Thomas Wyat," said Anne
Boleyn, in tones of musical sweetness, which made the heart beat and the
colour mount to the cheeks of him she addressed. "You had better allow
Sir Thomas Arundel or Sir John Hulstone to relieve you."

"I can feel no fatigue when near you, madam," replied Wyat, in a low
tone.

A slight blush overspread Anne's features, and she raised her
embroidered kerchief to her lips.

"If I had that kerchief I would wear it at the next lists, and defy all
comers," said Wyat.

"You shall have it, then," rejoined Anne. "I love all chivalrous
exploits, and will do my best to encourage them."

"Take heed, Sir Thomas," said Sir Francis Weston, the knight who held
the staff on the other side, "or we shall have the canopy down. Let Sir
Thomas Arundel relieve you."

"No," rejoined Wyat, recovering himself; "I will not rest till we come
to the bridge."

"You are in no haste to possess the kerchief," said Anne petulantly.

"There you wrong me, madam!" cried Sir Thomas eagerly.

"What ho, good fellows!" he shouted to the attendants at the palfreys'
heads, "your lady desires you to stop."

"And I desire them to go on--I, Will Sommers, jester to the high and
mighty King Harry the Eighth!" cried a voice of mock authority behind
the knight. "What if Sir Thomas Wyat ha