was overflowing with jests that made the gentlemen laugh, and the
beautiful, brilliant women blush, and, above all, the young queen,
who sat by him on the rich and splendid throne, and now and then threw
stolen and longing glances at her lover, for whom she would willingly
and gladly have given her royal crown and her throne.

When the king saw how Catharine blushed, he turned to her, and in his
tenderest tone begged her pardon for his jest, which, however, in its
sauciness, served only to make his queen still more beautiful, still
more bewitching. His words were then so tender and heartfelt, his looks
so full of love and admiration, that nobody could doubt but that the
queen was in highest favor with her husband, and that he loved her most
tenderly.

Only the few who knew the secret of this tenderness of the king, so
open and so unreservedly displayed, comprehended fully the danger which
threatened the queen; for the king was never more to be dreaded than
when he flattered; and on no one did his wrath fall more crushingly than
on him whom he had just kissed and assured of his favor.

This was what Earl Douglas said to himself, when he saw with what a
cordial look Henry the Eighth chatted with his consort.

Behind the throne of the royal pair was seen John Heywood, in his
fantastic and dressy costume, with his face at once noble and cunning;
and the king just then broke out into loud, resounding laughter at his
sarcastic and satirical observations.

"King, your laugh does not please me to-day," said John Heywood,
earnestly. "It smacks of gall. Do you not find it so, queen?"

The queen was startled from her sweet reveries, and that was what John
Heywood had wished. He, therefore, repeated his question.

"No, indeed," said she: "I find the king to-day quite like the sun. He
is radiant and bright, like it."

"Queen, you do not mean the sun, but the full moon," said John Heywood.
"But only see, Henry, how cheerfully Earl Archibald Douglas over there
is chatting with the Duchess of Richmond! I love that good earl.
He always appears like a blind-worm, which is just in the notion of
stinging some one on the heel, and hence it comes that, when near
the earl, I always transform myself into a crane. I stand on one leg;
because I am then sure to have the other at least safe from the earl's
sting. King, were I like you, I would not have those killed that the
blind-worm has stung; but I would root out the blind-worms, that t