en had forgotten her debt. She took to wandering to that
part of the palace-grounds where she could see the windows of the tower
her lover inhabited. Her old habit of cheerful talk deserted her,
and she brooded. It was long before she heard of the duel between the
Seigneur and Lord Leicester--the Duke's Daughter had kept this from her,
lest she should be unduly troubled--and when, in anxiety, she went to
the house where Lempriere had been quartered, he had gone, none could
tell her whither. Buonespoir was now in close confinement, by secret
orders of Leicester, and not allowed to walk abroad; and thus with no
friend save her father, now so much under the influence of the Earl, she
was bitterly solitary. Bravely she fought the growing care and suspicion
in her heart; but she was being tried beyond her strength. Her father
had urged her to make personal appeal to the Queen; and at times,
despite her better judgment, she was on the verge of doing so. Yet what
could she say? She could not go to the Queen of England and cry out,
like a silly milk-maid: "You have taken my lover--give him back to me!"
What proof had she that the Queen wanted her lover? And if she spoke,
the impertinence of the suggestion might send back to the fierce Medici
that same lover, to lose his head.

Leicester, who now was playing the game as though it were a hazard for
states and kingdoms, read the increasing trouble in her face; and
waited confidently for the moment when in desperation she would lose her
self-control and go to the Queen.

But he did not reckon with the depth of the girl's nature and her true
sense of life. Her brain told her that what she was tempted to do she
should not; that her only way was to wait; to trust that the Queen
of England was as much true woman as Queen, and as much Queen as
true woman; and that the one was held in high equipoise by the other.
Besides, Trinity Day would bring the end of it all, and that was not far
off. She steeled her will to wait till then, no matter how dark the sky
might be.

As time went on, Leicester became impatient. He had not been able
to induce M. Aubert to compel Angele to accept a quiet refuge at
Kenilworth; he saw that this plan would not work, and he deployed his
mind upon another. If he could but get Angele to seek De la Foret in
his apartment in the palace, and then bring the matter to Elizabeth's
knowledge with sure proof, De la Foret's doom would be sealed. At great
expense, howev