John Heywood to take a seat near her.

"I am not the queen, here," said she; "and you are not the king's
fool; but I am a poor weak woman, and you are my protector. You may,
therefore, well have the right to sit by me."

But John shook his head with a smile, and sat down at her feet. "St.
Catharine, savior of my son, I lie at thy feet, and devoutly return
thanks to thee."

"John, are you acquainted with this subterranean passage?" asked the
queen.

John gave a sad smile. "I am acquainted with it, queen."

"Ah, you know it? I supposed it was a secret of the king and queen."

"Then you will readily conceive that the fool knows it. For the King of
England and the fool are twin brothers. Yes, queen, I know this passage;
and I once wended it in anguish and tears."

"What! You yourself, John Heywood?"

"Yes, queen. And now I ask you, do you know the history of this
underground passage? You are silent. Now, well for you that you do not
know it. It is a long and bloody history, and if I should narrate to you
the whole of it, the night would be too short for it. When this passage
was built, Henry was still young, and possessed yet a heart. At that
time, he loved not merely his wives, but his friends and servants
also--specially Cromwell, the all-powerful minister. He then resided at
Whitehall, and Henry in the royal apartments of the Tower. But Henry was
always longing for his favorite; and so Cromwell one day surprised him
with this subterranean passage, the construction of which had occupied a
hundred men a whole year. Ah, ah, the king was then very much moved,
and thanked his powerful minister for this surprise with tears and hugs.
There passed scarcely a day that Henry did not go to Cromwell through
this passage. So he saw each day how the palace of Whitehall became more
and more splendid and glorious; and when he returned to the Tower, he
discovered that this residence was altogether unworthy of a king; but
that his minister lived by far more magnificently than the King of
England. That, queen, was the cause of Cromwell's fall! The king wanted
Whitehall. The sly Cromwell noticed it, and made him a present of his
gem, the palace on whose construction and decoration he had labored
ten years. Henry accepted the present; but now Cromwell's fall was
irrevocable. The king could not, of course, forgive Cromwell for having
dared to offer him a present so valuable, that Henry could not or would
not repay it. He remained, t