e
brooks not disobedience even in herself. How could she disobey her own
commands? But"--her eyes were on the greenwood and the path that led
into the circle--"but she would shut her eyes to-day, and let the world
move on without her, let lovers thrive, and birds be nesting without
heed or hap. Disobedience shall thrive when the Queen connives at
it--and so I leave you to your disobedience, sweet."

With a laugh she sprang to her feet, and ran. Amazed and bewildered
Angele gazed after her. As she stood looking she heard her name called
softly.

Turning, she saw Michel. They were alone.

CHAPTER XIX

When De la Foret and Angele saw the Queen again it was in the royal
chapel.

Perhaps the longest five minutes of M. de la Foret's life were those in
which he waited the coming of the Queen on that Trinity Sunday which
was to decide his fate. When he saw Elizabeth enter the chapel his eyes
swam, till the sight of them was lost in the blur of colour made by
the motions of gorgeously apparelled courtiers and the people of the
household. When the Queen had taken her seat and all was quiet, he
struggled with himself to put on such a front of simple boldness as he
would wear upon day of battle. The sword the Queen had given him was at
his side, and his garb was still that of a gentleman, not of a Huguenot
minister such as Elizabeth in her grim humour, and to satisfy her bond
with France, would make of him this day.

The brown of his face had paled in the weeks spent in the palace and
in waiting for this hour; anxiety had toned the ruddy vigour of his
bearing; but his figure was the figure of a soldier, and his hand that
of a strong man. He shook a little as he bowed to her Majesty, but that
passed, and when at last his eye met that of the Duke's Daughter he
grew steady; for she gave him as plainly as though her tongue spoke, a
message from Angele. Angele herself he did not see--she was kneeling
in an obscure corner, her father's hand in hers, all the passion of her
life pouring out in prayer.

De la Foret drew himself up with an iron will. No nobler figure of a
man ever essayed to preach the Word, and so Elizabeth thought; and she
repented of the bitter humour which had set this trial as his chance
of life in England and his freedom from the hand of Catherine. The man
bulked larger in her eyes than he had ever done, and she struggled with
herself to keep the vow she had made to the Duke's Daughter the night
that An