o him, blushing,
to withdraw. He glided noiselessly out, his lute under his arm, and I
remained alone with the queen. I dared to chide her, gently, for her
love affair with the handsome singer, and, above all, to exhort her to
fidelity to her husband. Whereupon Mary answered me, with her accustomed
smiling manner, 'There is but one fidelity which one must recognize, and
that is to the god of gods--Love! Where he is not, I will not be. The
god Hymen is a tedious, pedantic fellow, who burns to ashes all the
fresh young love of the heart, and all the enthusiasm of the soul, with
his intolerable tallow torch, for Love stands not at his side. I am
faithful to the god Amor, therefore I can never be faithful to the god
Hymen, as it would be unfaithful to Love!' That was the response of the
beautiful Queen Mary. I could not contest the question, so I only looked
at her and smiled. Suddenly, I felt a dagger, as it were, thrust at my
heart, my spiritual eyes were opened, the lovely woman on the divan was
fearfully changed. Instead of the gauze robe, sparkling with silver, a
black cloth dress covered her emaciated limbs; instead of brilliants,
sparkling in her hair, a mourning veil covered her whitened locks. The
beauty and roundness of her neck had disappeared, and I saw around it a
broad dark-red stripe. Her head moved, and fell at my feet dissevered.
I saw it all, as distinctly as if it really happened, and seized with
unspeakable pity I prostrated myself at her feet (who was unknowing
of my vision), and besought her with all the anxiety and tenderness
of friendship to leave Scotland, to fly from England, as there the
death-tribunal awaited her. But Mary Stuart only laughed at my warning,
and called me a melancholy fool, whom jealousy made prophetic. The more
I begged and implored, the more wanton and gay the poor woman became.
Then, as I saw all persuasion was vain, that no one could save her from
her dreadful fate, I took a solemn oath that I would be at her side at
the hour of her peril, and accompany her to the scaffold. Mary laughed
aloud, and, with that mocking gayety so peculiarly her own, she accepted
the oath, and reached me her white hand, sparkling with diamonds, to
seal the vow with a kiss. I faithfully kept it. I had but just arrived
in Rome when I received the account of her imprisonment. I presented
myself immediately to the pope, the great Sixtus V., who then occupied
the chair of St. Peter. Fortunately, he was my