ief
that you are harmless; lull her to sleep, queen. She is a venomous and
dangerous serpent, which must not be roused, lest, before you suspect
it, it bite you on the heel. Be always gracious, always confidential,
always friendly toward her. Only, queen, do not tell her what you would
not confide to Gardiner and Earl Douglas likewise. Oh, believe me, she
is like the lion in the doge's palace at Venice. The secrets that you
confide to her will become accusations against you before the tribunal
of blood."

Catharine shook her head with a smile. "You are too severe, John
Heywood. It is possible that the religion which she secretly professes
has estranged her heart from me, but she would never be capable of
betraying me, or of leaguing herself with my foes. No, John, you are
mistaken. It would be a crime to believe thus. My God, what a wicked
and wretched world it must be in which we could not trust even our most
faithful and dearest friends!"

"The world is indeed wicked and wretched, and one must despair of it,
or consider it a merry jest, with which the devil tickles our noses. For
me, it is such a jest, and therefore, queen, I have become the king's
fool, which at least gives me the right of spurting out upon the
crawling brood all the venom of the contempt I feel for mankind, and of
speaking the truth to those who have only lies, by dripping honey, ever
on their lips. The sages and poets are the real fools of our day, and
since I did not feel a vocation to be a king, or a priest, a hangman, or
a lamb for sacrifice, I became a fool."

"Yes, a fool, that is to say, an epigrammatist, whose biting tongue
makes the whole court tremble."

"Since I cannot, like my royal master, have these criminals executed, I
give them a few sword-cuts with my tongue. Ah, I tell you, you will much
need this ally. Be on your guard, queen: I heard this morning the first
growl of the thunder, and in Lady Jane's eyes I observed the stealthy
lightning. Trust her not. Trust no one here but your friends Cranmer and
John Heywood."

"And you say, that in all this court, among all these brilliant women,
these brave cavaliers, the poor queen has not a single friend, not a
soul, whom she may trust, on whom she may lean? Oh, John Heywood, think
again, have pity on the poverty of a queen. Think again. Say, only you
two? No friend but you?"

And the queen's eyes filled with tears, which she tried in vain to
repress.

John Heywood saw it and sigh