ems to me the Douglases have lost
nothing by waiting, and there is not a younger son of this noble family
who might not aspire to the highest alliances; it is truly vexatious
that our sister the queen of England has taken a vow of virginity; as is
stated."

"Or rather," interrupted Lady Lochleven, "that the Queen of Scotland
is not a widow by her third husband. But," continued the old lady,
pretending to recollect herself, "I do not say that to reproach your
grace. Catholics look upon marriage as a sacrament, and on this head
receive it as often as they can."

"This, then," returned Mary, "is the difference between them and the
Huguenots; for they, not having the same respect for it, think it is
allowed them to dispense with it in certain circumstances."

At this terrible sarcasm Lady Lochleven took a step towards Mary Stuart,
holding in her hand the knife which she had just been using to cut off a
piece of meat brought her to taste; but the queen rose up with so great
a calm and with such majesty, that either from involuntary respect or
shame of her first impulse, she let fall the weapon she was holding,
and not finding anything sufficiently strong in reply to express her
feelings, she signed to the servants to follow her, and went out of the
apartment with all the dignity that anger permitted her to summon to her
aid.

Scarcely had Lady Lochleven left the room than the queen sat down again,
joyful and triumphant at the victory she had just gained, and ate with
a better appetite than she had yet done since she was a prisoner, while
Mary Seyton deplored in a low tone and with all possible respect this
fatal gift of repartee that Mary had received, and which, with her
beauty, was one of the causes of all her misfortunes; but the queen did
nothing but laugh at all her observations, saying she was curious to see
the figure her good hostess would cut at dinnertime.

After breakfast, the queen went down into the garden: her satisfied
pride had restored some of her cheerfulness, so much so that, seeing,
while crossing the hall, a mandolin lying forgotten on a chair, she told
Mary Seyton to take it, to see, she said, if she could recall her old
talent. In reality the queen was one of the best musicians of the time,
and played admirably, says Brantome, on the lute and viol d'amour, an
instrument much resembling the mandolin.

Mary Seyton obeyed.

Arrived in the garden, the queen sat down in the deepest shade, and
there