ken folk must stand
together, your august Majesty."

Elizabeth's eye flashed up. She was impatient of refusal of her favour.
She was also a woman, and that De la Foret should flaunt his devotion
to another woman was little to her liking. The woman in her, which had
never been blessed with a noble love, was roused. The sourness of a
childless, uncompanionable life was stronger for the moment than her
strong mind and sense.

"Monsieur has sworn this, and Monsieur has sworn that," she said
petulantly--"and to one who loveth a lady, and for a cause--tut, tut,
tut!--"

Suddenly a kind of intriguing laugh leaped into her eye, and she turned
to Leicester and whispered in his ear. Leicester frowned, then smiled,
and glanced up and down De la Foret's figure impertinently.

"See, Monsieur de la Foret," she added; "since you will not fight, you
shall preach. A priest you came into my kingdom, and a priest you shall
remain; but you shall preach good English doctrine and no Popish folly."

De la Foret started, then composed himself, and before he had time
to reply, Elizabeth continued: "Partly for your own sake am I thus
gracious; for as a preacher of the Word I have not need to give you
up, according to agreement with our brother of France. As a rebel and
conspirator I were bound to do so, unless you were an officer of my
army. The Seigneur of Rozel has spoken for you, and the Comtesse de
Montgomery has written a pleading letter. Also I have from another
source a tearful prayer--the ink is scarce dry upon it--which has been
of service to you. But I myself have chosen this way of escape for
you. Prove yourself worthy, and all may be well--but prove yourself
you shall. You have prepared your own brine, Monsieur; in it you shall
pickle."

She smiled a sour smile, for she was piqued, and added: "Do you think I
will have you here squiring of distressed dames, save as a priest? You
shall hence to Madame of Montgomery as her faithful chaplain, once I
have heard you preach and know your doctrine."

Leicester almost laughed outright in the young man's face now, for he
had no thought that De la Foret would accept, and refusal meant the
exile's doom.

It seemed fantastic that this noble gentleman, this very type of the
perfect soldier, with the brown face of a picaroon and an athletic
valour of body, should become a preacher even in necessity.

Elizabeth, seeing De la Foret's dumb amazement and anxiety, spoke
up sharply: "Do this,