sess. "I had not thought it possible," she said amid her sobs to her
son, who trembled like a culprit detected in his crime, "I had not thought
it possible that, in return for my pains in rearing you--in return for my
preservation of your crown, of which both Huguenots and Catholics were
desirous of robbing you, and after having sacrificed myself and incurred
such risks in your behalf, you would have been willing to make me so
miserable a requital. You hide yourself from me, your mother, and take
counsel of your enemies. You snatch yourself from my arms that saved you,
in order to rest in the arms of those who wished to murder you. I know
that you hold secret deliberations with the admiral. You desire
inconsiderately to plunge into a war with Spain, and so to expose your
kingdom, as well as yourself and us, a prey to 'those of the religion.'
If I am so miserable, before compelling me to witness such a sight, give
me permission to withdraw to my birthplace,[915] and send away your
brother, who may well style himself unfortunate in having employed his
life for the preservation of yours. Give him at least time to get out of
danger and from the presence of enemies made in your service--the
Huguenots, who do not wish for a war with Spain, but for a French war and
a subversion of all estates, which will enable them to gain a secure
footing."[916]

[Sidenote: Rumors of Elizabeth's desertion of her allies.]

Such was a portion of the queen mother's crafty speech. But there was
another point upon which she doubtless touched, and which she used to no
little purpose. A report had reached her from England to the effect that
Queen Elizabeth had decided to issue a proclamation recalling the English
who had gone to Flushing to assist the patriots. The story was false; so
the secretary, Sir Thomas Smith, subsequently assured Walsingham.
Elizabeth neither had done so, nor intended anything of the kind.[917] But
it was wonderfully like the usual practice of Henry the Eighth's daughter,
and Catharine believed it, and looked with horror at the precipice before
which she stood. Deserted by her faithless ally, France was entering
single-handed a contest of life or death with the world-empire of Spain.
In fact, the English ambassador ascribed to the receipt of this
intelligence alone both the queen mother's tears and entreaties at
Montpipeau and the king's altered policy. "Touching Flemish matters," he
wrote to Lord Burleigh, "the king had pr