he
feet of honorable men might be secure from them."

The king cast at him a quick, searching look, which John Heywood
answered with a smile.

"Kill the blind-worms, King Henry," said he; "and when you are once at
work destroying vermin, it will do no harm if you once more give these
priests also a good kick. It is now a long time since we burnt any of
them, and they are again becoming arrogant and malicious, as they
always were and always will be. I see even the pious and meek bishop of
Winchester, the noble Gardiner, who is entertaining himself with Lady
Jane over there, smiling very cheerfully, and that is a bad sign; for
Gardiner smiles only when he has again caught a poor soul, and prepared
it as a breakfast for his lord. I do not mean you, king, but his
lord--the devil. For the devil is always hungry for noble human souls;
and to him who catches one for him he gives indulgence for his sins for
an hour. Therefore Gardiner catches so many souls; for since he sins
every hour, every hour he needs indulgence."

"You are very spiteful to-day, John Heywood," said the queen, smiling,
while the king fixed his eyes on the ground, thoughtful and musing.

John Heywood's words had touched the sore place of his heart, and, in
spite of himself, filled his suspicious soul with new doubts.

He mistrusted not merely the accused, but the accusers also; and if
he punished the one as criminals, he would have willingly punished the
others as informants.

He asked himself: "What aim had Earl Douglas and Gardiner in accusing
the queen; and why had they startled him out of his quiet and
confidence?" At that moment, when he looked on his beautiful wife, who
sat by him in such serene tranquillity, unembarrassed and smiling, he
felt a deep anger fill his heart, not against Catharine, but against
Jane, who accused her. She was so lovely and beautiful! Why did they
envy him her? Why did they not leave him in his sweet delusion? But
perhaps she was not guilty. No, she was not. The eye of a culprit is
not thus bright and clear. The air of infidelity is not thus
unembarrassed--of such maidenly delicacy.

Moreover, the king was exhausted and disgusted. One can become satiated
even with cruelty; and, at this hour, Henry felt completely surfeited
with bloodshed.

His heart--for, in such moments of mental relaxation and bodily
enfeeblement, the king even had a heart--his heart was already in the
mood of pronouncing the word pardon, when his