CELEBRATED CRIMES, COMPLETE

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, PERE

IN EIGHT VOLUMES

MARY STUART--1587

CHAPTER I

Some royal names are predestined to misfortune: in France, there is thename "Henry". Henry I was poisoned, Henry II was killed in a tournament, Henry III and Henry IV were assassinated. As to Henry V, for whom thepast is so fatal already, God alone knows what the future has in storefor him. 

In Scotland, the unlucky name is "Stuart". Robert I, founder of therace, died at twenty-eight of a lingering illness. Robert II, the mostfortunate of the family, was obliged to pass a part of his life, notmerely in retirement, but also in the dark, on account of inflammationof the eyes, which made them blood-red. Robert III succumbed to grief, the death of one son and the captivity of other. James I was stabbed byGraham in the abbey of the Black Monks of Perth. James II was killed atthe siege of Roxburgh, by a splinter from a burst cannon. James III wasassassinated by an unknown hand in a mill, where he had taken refugeduring the battle of Sauchie. James IV, wounded by two arrows and a blowfrom a halberd, fell amidst his nobles on the battlefield of Flodden. James V died of grief at the loss of his two sons, and of remorse forthe execution of Hamilton. James VI, destined to unite on his headthe two crowns of Scotland and England, son of a father who had beenassassinated, led a melancholy and timorous existence, between thescaffold of his mother, Mary Stuart, and that of his son, Charles I. Charles II spent a portion of his life in exile. James II died init. The Chevalier Saint-George, after having been proclaimed King ofScotland as James VIII, and of England and Ireland as James III, wasforced to flee, without having been able to give his arms even thelustre of a defeat. His son, Charles Edward, after the skirmish at Derbyand the battle of Culloden, hunted from mountain to mountain, pursuedfrom rock to rock, swimming from shore to shore, picked up half nakedby a French vessel, betook himself to Florence to die there, without theEuropean courts having ever consented to recognise him as a sovereign. Finally, his brother, Henry Benedict, the last heir of the Stuarts, having lived on a pension of three thousand pounds sterling, granted himby George III, died completely forgotten, bequeathing to the House ofHanover all the crown jewels which James II had carried off when hepassed over to the Continent in 1688--a tardy but complete recognitionof the legitimacy of the family which had succeeded his. 

In the midst of this unlucky race, Mary Stuart was the favourite ofmisfortune. As Brantome has said of her, "Whoever desires to writeabout this illustrious queen of Scotland has, in her, two very, largesubjects, the one her life, the other her death, " Brantome had known heron one of the most mournful occasions of her life--at the moment whenshe was quitting France for Scotland. 

It was on the 9th of August, 1561, after having lost her mother and herhusband in the same year, that Mary Stuart, Dowager of France and Queenof Scotland at nineteen, escorted by her uncles, Cardinals Guise andLorraine, by the Duke and Duchess of Guise, by the Duc d'Aumale and M. De Nemours, arrived at Calais, where two galleys were waiting to takeher to Scotland, one commanded by M. De Mevillon and the other byCaptain Albize. She remained six days in the town. At last, on the 15thof the month, after the saddest adieus to her family, accompanied byMessieurs d'Aumale, d'Elboeuf, and Damville, with many nobles, amongwhom were Brantome and Chatelard, she embarked in M. Mevillon's galley, which was immediately ordered to put out to sea, which it did with theaid of oars, there not being sufficient wind to make use of the sails. 

Mary Stuart was then in the full bloom of her beauty, beauty even morebrilliant in its mourning garb--a beauty so wonderful that it shedaround her a charm which no one whom she wished to please could escape, and which was fatal to almost everyone. About this time, too, someonemade her the subject of a song, which, as even her rivals confessed, contained no more than the truth. It was, so it was said, by M. DeMaison-Fleur, a cavalier equally accomplished in arms and letters: Hereit is:--

"In robes of whiteness, lo, Full sad and mournfully, Went pacing toand fro Beauty's divinity; A shaft in hand she bore From Cupid's cruelstore, And he, who fluttered round, Bore, o'er his blindfold eyes Ando'er his head uncrowned, A veil of mournful guise, Whereon the wordswere wrought: 'You perish or are caught. '"

Yes, at this moment, Mary Stuart, in her deep mourning of white, wasmore lovely than ever; for great tears were trickling down her cheeks, as, weaving a handkerchief, standing on the quarterdeck, she who wasso grieved to set out, bowed farewell to those who were so grieved toremain. 

At last, in half an hour's time, the harbour was left behind; the vesselwas out at sea. Suddenly, Mary heard loud cries behind her: a boatcoming in under press of sail, through her pilot's ignorance had struckupon a rock in such a manner that it was split open, and after havingtrembled and groaned for a moment like someone wounded, began tobe swallowed up, amid the terrified screams of all the crew. Mary, horror-stricken, pale, dumb, and motionless, watched her gradually sink, while her unfortunate crew, as the keel disappeared, climbed into theyards and shrouds, to delay their death-agony a few minutes; finally, keel, yards, masts, all were engulfed in the ocean's gaping jaws. For amoment there remained some black specks, which in turn disappeared oneafter another; then wave followed upon wave, and the spectators of thishorrible tragedy, seeing the sea calm and solitary as if nothing hadhappened, asked themselves if it was not a vision that had appeared tothem and vanished. 

"Alas!" cried Mary, falling on a seat and leaning both arms an thevessel's stern, "what a sad omen for such a sad voyage!" Then, once morefixing on the receding harbour her eyes, dried for a moment by terror, and beginning to moisten anew, "Adieu, France!" she murmured, "adieu, France!" and for five hours she remained thus, weeping and murmuring, "Adieu, France! adieu, France!"

Darkness fell while she was still lamenting; and then, as the view wasblotted out and she was summoned to supper, "It is indeed now, dearFrance, " said she, rising, "that I really lose you, since jealous nightheaps mourning upon mourning, casting a black veil before my sight. Adieu then, one last time, dear France; for never shall I see you more. "

With these words, she went below, saying that she was the very oppositeof Dido, who, after the departure of AEneas, had done nothing but lookat the waves, while she, Mary, could not take her eyes off the land. Then everyone gathered round her to try to divert and console her. Butshe, growing sadder, and not being able to respond, so overcome was shewith tears, could hardly eat; and, having had a bed got ready on thestern deck, she sent for the steersman, and ordered him if he still sawland at daybreak, to come and wake her immediately. On this point Marywas favoured; for the wind having dropped, when daybreak came the vesselwas still within sight of France. 

It was a great joy when, awakened by the steersman, who had notforgotten the order he had received, Mary raised herself on her couch, and through the window that she had had opened, saw once more thebeloved shore. But at five o'clock in the morning, the wind havingfreshened, the vessel rapidly drew farther away, so that soon the landcompletely disappeared. Then Mary fell back upon her bed, pale as death, murmuring yet once again--"Adieu, France! I shall see thee no more. "

Indeed, the happiest years of her life had just passed away in thisFrance that she so much regretted. Born amid the first religioustroubles, near the bedside of her dying father, the cradle mourning wasto stretch for her to the grave, and her stay in France had been a rayof sunshine in her night. Slandered from her birth, the report was sogenerally spread abroad that she was malformed, and that she could notlive to grow up, that one day her mother, Mary of Guise, tired ofthese false rumours, undressed her and showed her naked to the Englishambassador, who had come, on the part of Henry VIII, to ask her inmarriage for the Prince of Wales, himself only five years old. Crownedat nine months by Cardinal Beaton, archbishop of St. Andrews, she wasimmediately hidden by her mother, who was afraid of treacherous dealingin the King of England, in Stirling Castle. Two years later, not findingeven this fortress safe enough, she removed her to an island in themiddle of the Lake of Menteith, where a priory, the only building in theplace, provided an asylum for the royal child and for four young girlsborn in the same year as herself, having like her the sweet name whichis an anagram of the word "aimer, " and who, quitting her neither in hergood nor in her evil fortune, were called the "Queen's Marys". They wereMary Livingston, Mary Fleming, Mary Seyton, and Mary Beaton. Mary stayedin this priory till Parliament, having approved her marriage with theFrench dauphin, son of Henry II, she was taken to Dumbarton Castle, toawait the moment of departure. There she was entrusted to M. De Breze, sent by Henry II to-fetch her. Having set out in the French galleysanchored at the mouth of the Clyde, Mary, after having been hotlypursued by the English fleet, entered Brest harbour, 15th August, 1548, one year after the death of Francis! Besides the queen's four Marys, thevessels also brought to France three of her natural brothers, among whomwas the Prior of St. Andrews, James Stuart, who was later to abjure theCatholic faith, and with the title of Regent, and under the name of theEarl of Murray, to become so fatal to poor Mary. From Brest, Marywent to St. Germain-en-Laye, where Henry II, who had just ascended thethrone, overwhelmed her with caresses, and then sent her to a conventwhere the heiresses of the noblest French houses were brought up. ThereMary's happy qualities developed. Born with a woman's heart and a man'shead, Mary not only acquired all the accomplishments which constitutedthe education of a future queen, but also that real knowledge which isthe object of the truly learned. 

Thus, at fourteen, in the Louvre, before Henry II, Catherine de Medici, and the whole court, she delivered a discourse in Latin of her owncomposition, in which she maintained that it becomes women to cultivateletters, and that it is unjust and tyrannical to deprive flowery oftheir perfumes, by banishing young girls from all but domestic cares. One can imagine in what manner a future queen, sustaining such a thesis, was likely to be welcomed in the most lettered and pedantic court inEurope. Between the literature of Rabelais and Marot verging on theirdecline, and that of Ronsard and Montaigne reaching their zenith, Marybecame a queen of poetry, only too happy never to have to wear anothercrown than that which Ronsard, Dubellay, Maison-Fleur, and Brantomeplaced daily on her head. But she was predestined. In the midst of thosefetes which a waning chivalry was trying to revive came the fatal joustof Tournelles: Henry II, struck by a splinter of a lance for want ofa visor, slept before his time with his ancestors, and Mary Stuartascended the throne of France, where, from mourning for Henry, shepassed to that for her mother, and from mourning for her mother to thatfor her husband. Mary felt this last loss both as woman and as poet; herheart burst forth into bitter tears and plaintive harmonies. Here aresome lines that she composed at this time:--

"Into my song of woe, Sung to a low sad air, My cruel grief I throw, Forloss beyond compare; In bitter sighs and tears Go by my fairest years. 

"Was ever grief like mine Imposed by destiny? Did ever lady pine, Inhigh estate, like me, Of whom both heart and eye Within the coffin lie?

"Who, in the tender spring And blossom of my youth, Taste all thesorrowing Of life's extremest ruth, And take delight in nought Save inregretful thought. 

"All that was sweet and gay Is now a pain to see; The sunniness ofday Is black as night to me; All that was my delight Is hidden from mysight. 

"My heart and eye, indeed, One face, one image know, The which thismournful weed On my sad face doth show, Dyed with the violet's tone Thatis the lover's own. 

"Tormented by my ill, I go from place to place, But wander as I will Mywoes can nought efface; My most of bad and good I find in solitude. 

"But wheresoe'er I stay, In meadow or in copse, Whether at break ofday Or when the twilight drops, My heart goes sighing on, Desiring onethat's gone. 

"If sometimes to the skies My weary gaze I lift, His gently shining eyesLook from the cloudy drift, Or stooping o'er the wave I see him in thegrave. 

"Or when my bed I seek, And-sleep begins to steal, Again I hear himspeak, Again his touch I feel; In work or leisure, he Is ever near tome. 

"No other thing I see, However fair displayed, By which my heart will beA tributary made, Not having the perfection Of that, my lost affection. 

"Here make an end, my verse, Of this thy sad lament, Whose burden shallrehearse Pure love of true intent, Which separation's stress Will neverrender less. "

"It was then, " says Brantorne, "that it was delightful to see her; forthe whiteness of her countenance and of her veil contended together; butfinally the artificial white yielded, and the snow-like pallor of herface vanquished the other. For it was thus, " he adds, "that from themoment she became a widow, I always saw her with her pale hue, as longas I had the honour of seeing her in France, and Scotland, where shehad to go in eighteen months' time, to her very great regret, after herwidowhood, to pacify her kingdom, greatly divided by religious troubles. Alas! she had neither the wish nor the will for it, and I have oftenheard her say so, with a fear of this journey like death; for shepreferred a hundred times to dwell in France as a dowager queen, and tocontent herself with Touraine and Poitou for her jointure, than to goand reign over there in her wild country; but her uncles, at least someof them, not all, advised her, and even urged her to it, and deeplyrepented their error. "

Mary was obedient, as we have seen, and she began her journey under suchauspices that when she lost sight of land she was like to die. Then itwas that the poetry of her soul found expression in these famous lines:

 "Farewell, delightful land of France, My motherland, The best beloved! Foster-nurse of my young years! Farewell, France, and farewell my happy days! The ship that separates our loves Has borne away but half of me; One part is left thee and is throe, And I confide it to thy tenderness, That thou may'st hold in mind the other part. "'

[Translator's note. -It has not been found possible to make a rhymedversion of these lines without sacrificing the simplicity which is theirchief charm. ]

This part of herself that Mary left in France was the body of the youngking, who had taken with him all poor Mary's happiness into his tomb. 

Mary had but one hope remaining, that the sight of the English fleetwould compel her little squadron to turn back; but she had to fulfil herdestiny. This same day, a fog, a very unusual occurrence in summer-time, extended all over the Channel, and caused her to escape the fleet; forit was such a dense fog that one could not see from stern to mast. Itlasted the whole of Sunday, the day after the departure, and did notlift till the following day, Monday, at eight o'clock in the morning. The little flotilla, which all this time had been sailing haphazard, hadgot among so many reefs that if the fog had lasted some minutes longerthe galley would certainly have grounded on some rock, and would haveperished like the vessel that had been seen engulfed on leaving port. But, thanks to the fog's clearing, the pilot recognised the Scottishcoast, and, steering his four boats with great skill through all thedangers, on the 20th August he put in at Leith, where no preparationhad been made for the queen's reception. Nevertheless, scarcely had shearrived there than the chief persons of the town met together and cameto felicitate her. Meanwhile, they hastily collected some wretched nags, with harness all falling in pieces, to conduct the queen to Edinburgh. 

At sight of this, Mary could not help weeping again; for she thought ofthe splendid palfreys and hackneys of her French knights and ladies, andat this first view Scotland appeared to-her in all its poverty. Next dayit was to appear to her in all its wildness. 

After having passed one night at Holyrood Palace, "during which, " saysBrantome, "five to six hundred rascals from the town, instead of lettingher sleep, came to give her a wild morning greeting on wretched fiddlesand little rebecks, " she expressed a wish to hear mass. Unfortunately, the people of Edinburgh belonged almost entirely to the Reformedreligion; so that, furious at the queen's giving such a proof ofpapistry at her first appearance, they entered the church by force, armed with knives, sticks and stones, with the intention of putting todeath the poor priest, her chaplain. He left the altar, and took refugenear the queen, while Mary's brother, the Prior of St. Andrews, whowas more inclined from this time forward to be a soldier than anecclesiastic, seized a sword, and, placing himself between the peopleand the queen, declared that he would kill with his own hand the firstman who should take another step. This firmness, combined with thequeen's imposing and dignified air, checked the zeal of the Reformers. 

As we have said, Mary had arrived in the midst of all the heat of thefirst religious wars. A zealous Catholic, like all her family on thematernal side, she inspired the Huguenots with the gravest fears:besides, a rumour had got about that Mary, instead of landing at Leith, as she had been obliged by the fog, was to land at Aberdeen. There, itwas said, she would have found the Earl of Huntly, one of the peers whohad remained loyal to the Catholic faith, and who, next to the familyof Hamilton, was, the nearest and most powerful ally of the royal house. Seconded by him and by twenty thousand soldiers from the north, shewould then have marched upon Edinburgh, and have re-established theCatholic faith throughout Scotland. Events were not slow to prove thatthis accusation was false. 

As we have stated, Mary was much attached to the Prior of St. Andrews, a son of James V and of a noble descendant of the Earls of Mar, who hadbeen very handsome in her youth, and who, in spite of the well-knownlove for her of James V, and the child who had resulted, had none theless wedded Lord Douglas of Lochleven, by whom she had had two othersons, the elder named William and the younger George, who were thushalf-brothers of the regent. Now, scarcely had she reascended the thronethan Mary had restored to the Prior of St. Andrews the title of Earl ofMar, that of his maternal ancestors, and as that of the Earl of Murrayhad lapsed since the death of the famous Thomas Randolph, Mary, in hersisterly friendship for James Stuart, hastened to add, this title tothose which she had already bestowed upon him. 

But here difficulties and complications arose; for the new Earl ofMurray, with his character, was not a man to content himself with abarren title, while the estates which were crown property since theextinction of the male branch of the old earls, had been graduallyencroached upon by powerful neighbours, among whom was the famous Earlof Huntly, whom we have already mentioned: the result was that, as thequeen judged that in this quarter her orders would probably encounteropposition, under pretext of visiting her possessions in the north, sheplaced herself at the head of a small army, commanded by her brother, the Earl of Mar and Murray. 

The Earl of Huntly was the less duped by the apparent pretext of thisexpedition, in that his son, John Cordon, for some abuse of hispowers, had just been condemned to a temporary imprisonment. He, notwithstanding, made every possible submission to the queen, sendingmessengers in advance to invite-her to rest in his castle; and followingup the messengers in person, to renew his invitation viva voce. Unfortunately, at the very moment when he was about to join the queen, the governor of Inverness, who was entirely devoted to him, was refusingto allow Mary to enter this castle, which was a royal one. It is truethat Murray, aware that it does not do to hesitate in the face of suchrebellions, had already had him executed for high treason. 

This new act of firmness showed Huntly that the young queen wasnot disposed to allow the Scottish lords a resumption of the almostsovereign power humbled by her father; so that, in spite of theextremely kind reception she accorded him, as he learned while in campthat his son, having escaped from prison, had just put himself atthe head of his vassals, he was afraid that he should be thought, asdoubtless he was, a party to the rising, and he set out the same nightto assume command of his troops, his mind made up, as Mary only had withher seven to eight thousand men, to risk a battle, giving out, however, as Buccleuch had done in his attempt to snatch James V from the hands ofthe Douglases, that it was not at the queen he was aiming, but solelyat the regent, who kept her under his tutelage and perverted her goodintentions. 

Murray, who knew that often the entire peace of a reign depends on thefirmness one displays at its beginning, immediately summoned all thenorthern barons whose estates bordered on his, to march against Huntly. All obeyed, for the house of Cordon was already so powerful that eachfeared it might become still more so; but, however, it was clear thatif there was hatred for the subject there was no great affection forthe queen, and that the greater number came without fixed intentions andwith the idea of being led by circumstances. 

The two armies encountered near Aberdeen. Murray at once posted thetroops he had brought from Edinburgh, and of which he was sure, on thetop of rising ground, and drew up in tiers on the hill slope all hisnorthern allies. Huntly advanced resolutely upon them, and attackedhis neighbours the Highlanders, who after a short resistance retiredin disorder. His men immediately threw away their lances, and, drawingtheir swords, crying, "Cordon, Cordon!" pursued the fugitives, andbelieved they had already gained the battle, when they suddenly ranright against the main body of Murray's army, which remained motionlessas a rampart of iron, and which, with its long lances, had the advantageof its adversaries, who were armed only with their claymores. It wasthen the turn of the Cordons to draw back, seeing which, the northernclans rallied and returned to the fight, each soldier having a sprigof heather in his cap that his comrades might recognise him. Thisunexpected movement determined the day: the Highlanders ran down thehillside like a torrent, dragging along with them everyone who couldhave wished to oppose their passage. Then Murray seeing that the momenthad come for changing the defeat into a rout, charged with his entirecavalry: Huntly, who was very stout and very heavily armed, fell andwas crushed beneath the horses' feet; John Cordon, taken prisoner inhis flight, was executed at Aberdeen three days afterwards; finally, hisbrother, too young to undergo the same fate at this time, was shut up ina dungeon and executed later, the day he reached the age of sixteen. 

Mary had been present at the battle, and the calm and courage shedisplayed had made a lively impression on her wild defenders, who allalong the road had heard her say that she would have liked to be a man, to pass her days on horseback, her nights under a tent, to wear a coatof mail, a helmet, a buckler, and at her side a broadsword. 

Mary made her entry into Edinburgh amid general enthusiasm; for thisexpedition against the Earl of Huntly, who was a Catholic, had been verypopular among the inhabitants, who had no very clear idea of the realmotives which had caused her to undertake it: They were of the Reformedfaith, the earl was a papist, there was an enemy the less; that is allthey thought about. Now, therefore; the Scotch, amid their acclamations, whether viva voce or by written demands, expressed the wish that theirqueen, who was without issue by Francis II, should re-marry: Mary agreedto this, and, yielding to the prudent advice of those about her, shedecided to consult upon this marriage Elizabeth, whose heir she was, inher title of granddaughter of Henry VII, in the event of the Queen ofEngland's dying without posterity. Unfortunately, she had not alwaysacted with like circumspection; for at the death of Mary Tudor, knownas Bloody. Mary, she had laid claim to the throne of Henry VIII, and, relying on the illegitimacy of Elizabeth's birth, had with the dauphinassumed sovereignty over Scotland, England, and Ireland, and had hadcoins struck with this new title, and plate engraved with these newarmorial bearings. 

Elizabeth was nine years older than Mary--that is to say, that at thistime she had not yet attained her thirtieth year; she was not merelyher rival as queen, then, but as woman. As regards education, she couldsustain comparison with advantage; for if she had less charm of mind, she had more solidity of judgment: versed in politics, philosophy, history; rhetoric, poetry and music, besides English, her maternaltongue, she spoke and wrote to perfection Greek, Latin, French, Italianand Spanish; but while Elizabeth excelled Mary on this point, in herturn Mary was more beautiful, and above all more attractive, than herrival. Elizabeth had, it is true, a majestic and agreeable appearance, bright quick eyes, a dazzlingly white complexion; but she had red hair, a large foot, --[Elizabeth bestowed a pair of her shoes on the Universityof Oxford; their size would point to their being those of a man ofaverage stature. ]--and a powerful hand, while Mary, on the contrary, with her beautiful ashy-fair hair, --[Several historians assert that MaryStuart had black hair; but Brantome, who had seen it, since, as we havesaid, he accompanied her to Scotland, affirms that it was fair. And, sosaying, he (the executioner) took off her headdress, in a contemptuousmanner, to display her hair already white, that while alive, however, she feared not to show, nor yet to twist and frizz as in the days whenit was so beautiful and so fair. ]--her noble open forehead, eyebrowswhich could be only blamed for being so regularly arched that theylooked as if drawn by a pencil, eyes continually beaming with thewitchery of fire, a nose of perfect Grecian outline, a mouth so rubyred and gracious that it seemed that, as a flower opens but to letits perfume escape, so it could not open but to give passage to gentlewords, with a neck white and graceful as a swan's, hands of alabaster, with a form like a goddess's and a foot like a child's, Mary was aharmony in which the most ardent enthusiast for sculptured form couldhave found nothing to reproach. 

This was indeed Mary's great and real crime: one single imperfection inface or figure, and she would not have died upon the scaffold. Besides, to Elizabeth, who had never seen her, and who consequently could onlyjudge by hearsay, this beauty was a great cause of uneasiness and ofjealousy, which she could not even disguise, and which showed itselfunceasingly in eager questions. One day when she was chatting with JamesMelville about his mission to her court, Mary's offer to be guidedby Elizabeth in her choice of a husband, --a choice which the queenof England had seemed at first to wish to see fixed on the Earl ofLeicester, --she led the Scotch ambassador into a cabinet, where sheshowed him several portraits with labels in her own handwriting: thefirst was one of the Earl of Leicester. As this nobleman was preciselythe suitor chosen by Elizabeth, Melville asked the queen to give it himto show to his mistress; but Elizabeth refused, saying that it wasthe only one she had. Melville then replied, smiling, that being inpossession of the original she might well part with the copy; butElizabeth would on no account consent. This little discussion ended, sheshowed him the portrait of Mary Stuart, which she kissed very tenderly, expressing to Melville a great wish to see his mistress. "That is veryeasy, madam, " he replied: "keep your room, on the pretext that you areindisposed, and set out incognito for Scotland, as King James V set outfor France when he wanted to see Madeleine de Valois, whom he afterwardsmarried. "

"Alas!" replied Elizabeth, "I would like to do so, but it is not so easyas you think. Nevertheless, tell your queen that I love her tenderly, and that I wish we could live more in friendship than we have done up tothe present". Then passing to a subject which she seemed to have wantedto broach for a long time, "Melville, " she continued, "tell me frankly, is my sister as beautiful as they say?"

"She has that reputation, " replied Melville; "but I cannot give yourMajesty any idea of hex beauty, having no point of comparison. "

"I will give you one, " the queen said. "Is she more beautiful than I?"

"Madam, " replied Melville, "you are the most beautiful woman in England, and Mary Stuart is the most beautiful woman in Scotland. "

"Then which of the two is the taller?" asked Elizabeth, who was notentirely satisfied by this answer, clever as it was. 

"My mistress, madam, " responded Melville; "I am obliged to confess it. "

"Then she is too tall, " Elizabeth said sharply, "for I am tall enough. And what are her favourite amusements?" she continued. 

"Madam, " Melville replied, "hunting, riding, performing on the lute andthe harpischord. "

"Is she skilled upon the latter?" Elizabeth inquired. "Oh yes, madam, "answered Melville; "skilled enough for a queen. "

There the conversation stopped; but as Elizabeth was herself anexcellent musician, she commanded Lord Hunsdon to bring Melville to herat a time when she was at her harpischord, so that he could hear herwithout her seeming to have the air of playing for him. In fact, thesame day, Hunsdon, agreeably to her instructions, led the ambassadorinto a gallery separated from the queen's apartment merely by tapestry, so that his guide having raised it. Melville at his leisure could hearElizabeth, who did not turn round until she had finished the piece, which, however, she was playing with much skill. When she saw Melville, she pretended to fly into a passion, and even wanted to strike him;but her anger calmed down by little and little at the ambassador'scompliments, and ceased altogether when he admitted that Mary Stuartwas not her equal. But this was not all: proud of her triumph, Elizabethdesired also that Melville should see her dance. Accordingly, she keptback her despatches for two days that he might be present at a ball thatshe was giving. These despatches, as we have said, contained the wishthat Mary Stuart should espouse Leicester; but this proposal couldnot be taken seriously. Leicester, whose personal worth was besidessufficiently mediocre, was of birth too inferior to aspire to thehand of the daughter of so many kings; thus Mary replied that such analliance would not become her. Meanwhile, something strange and tragiccame to pass. 

CHAPTER II

Among the lords who had followed Mary Stuart to Scotland was, as we havementioned, a young nobleman named Chatelard, a true type of the nobilityof that time, a nephew of Bayard on his mother's side, a poet and aknight, talented and courageous, and attached to Marshal Damville, ofwhose household he formed one. Thanks to this high position, Chatelard, throughout her stay in France, paid court to Mary Stuart, who, in thehomage he rendered her in verse, saw nothing more than those poeticaldeclarations of gallantry customary in that age, and with which sheespecially was daily overwhelmed. But it happened that about the timewhen Chatelard was most in love with the queen she was obliged to leaveFrance, as we have said. Then Marshal Damville, who knew nothing ofChatelard's passion, and who himself, encouraged by Mary's kindness, was among the candidates to succeed Francis II as husband, set outfor Scotland with the poor exile, taking Chatelard with him, and, notimagining he would find a rival in him, he made a confidant of him, andleft him with Mary when he was obliged to leave her, charging theyoung poet to support with her the interests of his suit. This postas confidant brought Mary and Chatelard more together; and, as in hercapacity as poet, the queen treated him like a brother, he made boldin his passion to risk all to obtain another title. Accordingly, oneevening he got into Mary Stuart's room, and hid himself under the bed;but at the moment when the queen was beginning to undress, a littledog she had began to yelp so loudly that her women came running athis barking, and, led by this indication, perceived Chatelard. A womaneasily pardons a crime for which too great love is the excuse: MaryStuart was woman before being queen--she pardoned. 

But this kindness only increased Chatelard's confidence: he put downthe reprimand he had received to the presence of the queen's women, andsupposed that if she had been alone she would have forgiven him stillmore completely; so that, three weeks after, this same scene wasrepeated. But this time, Chatelard, discovered in a cupboard, when thequeen was already in bed, was placed under arrest. 

The moment was badly chosen: such a scandal, just when the queen wasabout to re-marry, was fatal to Mary, let alone to Chatelard. Murraytook the affair in hand, and, thinking that a public trial could alonesave his sister's reputation, he urged the prosecution with such vigour, that Chatelard, convicted of the crime of lese-majeste, was condemned todeath. Mary entreated her brother that Chatelard might be sent back toFrance; but Murray made her see what terrible consequences such a use ofher right of pardon might have, so that Mary was obliged to letjustice take its course: Chatelard was led to execution. Arrived on thescaffold, which was set up before the queen's palace, Chatelard, who haddeclined the services of a priest, had Ronsard's Ode on Death read; andwhen the reading, which he followed with evident pleasure, was ended, heturned--towards the queen's windows, and, having cried out for the lasttime, "Adieu, loveliest and most cruel of princesses!" he stretchedout his neck to the executioner, without displaying any repentance oruttering any complaint. This death made all the more impression uponMary, that she did not dare to show her sympathy openly. 

Meanwhile there was a rumour that the queen of Scotland was consentingto a new marriage, and several suitors came forward, sprung from theprincipal reigning families of Europe: first, the Archduke Charles, third son of the Emperor of Germany; then the Duke of Anjou, whoafterwards became Henry III. But to wed a foreign prince was to give upher claims to the English crown. So Mary refused, and, making a meritof this to Elizabeth, she cast her eyes on a relation of the latter's, Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, son of the Earl of Lennox. Elizabeth, whohad nothing plausible to urge against this marriage, since the Queen ofScotland not only chose an Englishman for husband, but was marryinginto her own family, allowed the Earl of Lennox and his son to go tothe Scotch court, reserving it to herself, if matters appeared to takea serious turn, to recall them both--a command which they would beconstrained to obey, since all their property was in England. 

Darnley was eighteen years of age: he was handsome, well-made, elegant;he talked in that attractive manner of the young nobles of the Frenchand English courts that Mary no longer heard since her exile inScotland; she let herself be deceived by these appearances, and did notsee that under this brilliant exterior Darnley hid utter insignificance, dubious courage, and a fickle and churlish character. It is true that hecame to her under the auspices of a man whose influence was as strikingas the risen fortune which gave him the opportunity to exert it. Werefer to David Rizzio. 

David Rizzio, who played such a great part in the life of Mary Stuart, whose strange favour for him has given her enemies, probably without anycause, such cruel weapons against her, was the son of a Turin musicianburdened with a numerous family, who, recognising in him a pronouncedmusical taste, had him instructed in the first principles of the art. Atthe age of fifteen he had left his father's house and had gone on footto Nice, where the Duke of Savoy held his court; there he entered theservice of the Duke of Moreto, and this lord having been appointed, some years afterwards, to the Scottish embassy, Rizzio followed him toScotland. As this young man had a very fine voice, and accompanied onthe viol and fiddle songs of which both the airs and the words were ofhis own composition, the ambassador spoke of him to Mary, who wishedto see him. Rizzio, full of confidence in himself, and seeing in thequeen's desire a road to success, hastened to obey her command, sangbefore her, and pleased her. She begged him then of Moreto, makingno more of it than if she had asked of him a thoroughbred dog or awell-trained falcon. Moreta presented him to her, delighted at findingsuch an opportunity to pay his court; but scarcely was Rizzio in herservice than Mary discovered that music was the least of his gifts, thathe possessed, besides that, education if not profound at least varied, a supple mind, a lively imagination, gentle ways, and at the same timemuch boldness and presumption. He reminded her of those Italian artistswhom she had seen at the French court, and spoke to her the tongue ofMarot and Ronsard, whose most beautiful poems he knew by heart: this wasmore than enough to please Mary Stuart. In a short time he becameher favourite, and meanwhile the place of secretary for the Frenchdespatches falling vacant, Rizzio was provided for with it. 

Darnley, who wished to succeed at all costs, enlisted Rizzio in hisinterests, unconscious that he had no need of this support; and as, onher side, Mary, who had fallen in love with him at first sight, fearingsome new intrigue of Elizabeth's, hastened on this union so far as theproprieties permitted, the affair moved forward with wonderful rapidity;and in the midst of public rejoicing, with the approbation of thenobility, except for a small minority, with Murray at its head, themarriage was solemnised under the happiest auspices, 29th July 1565. Twodays before, Darnley and his father, the Earl of Lennox, had received acommand to return to London, and as they had not obeyed it, a weekafter the celebration of the marriage they learned that the Countess ofLennox, the only one of the family remaining in Elizabeth's power, hadbeen arrested and taken to the Tower. Thus Elizabeth, in spite of herdissimulation, yielding to that first impulse of violence that shealways had such trouble to overcome, publicly displayed her resentment. 

However, Elizabeth was not the woman to be satisfied with uselessvengeance: she soon released the countess, and turned her eyes towardsMurray, the most discontented of the nobles in opposition, who by thismarriage was losing all his personal influence. It was thus easy forElizabeth to put arms in his hand. In fact, when he had failed inhis first attempt to seize Darnley, he called to his aid the Dukeof Chatellerault, Glencairn, Argyll, and Rothes, and collecting whatpartisans they could, they openly rebelled against the queen. This wasthe first ostensible act of that hatred which was afterwards so fatal toMary. 

The queen, on her side, appealed to her nobles, who in response hastenedto rally to her, so that in a month's time she found herself at thehead of the finest army that ever a king of Scotland had raised. Darnleyassumed the command of this magnificent assembly, mounted on a superbhorse, arrayed in gilded armour; and accompanied by the queen, who, ina riding habit, with pistols at her saddle-bow, wished to make thecampaign with him, that she might not quit his side for a moment. Bothwere young, both were handsome, and they left Edinburgh amidst thecheers of the people and the army. 

Murray and his accomplices did not even try to stand against them, and the campaign consisted of such rapid and complex marches andcounter-marches, that this rebellion is called the Run-about Raid-thatis to say, the run in every sense of the word. Murray and the rebelswithdrew into England, where Elizabeth, while seeming to condemn theirunlucky attempt, afforded them all the assistance they needed. 

Mary returned to Edinburgh delighted at the success of her two firstcampaigns, not suspecting that this new good fortune was the last shewould have, and that there her short-lived prosperity would cease. Indeed, she soon saw that in Darnley she had given herself not a devotedand very attentive husband, as she had believed, but an imperious andbrutal master, who, no longer having any motive for concealment, showedhimself to her just as he was, a man of disgraceful vices, of whichdrunkenness and debauchery was the least. Accordingly, seriousdifferences were not long in springing up in this royal household. 

Darnley in wedding Mary had not become king, but merely the queen'shusband. To confer on him authority nearly equalling a regent's, itwas necessary that Mary should grant him what was termed the crownmatrimonial--a crown Francis II had worn during his short royalty, andthat Mary, after Darnley's conduct to herself, had not the slightestintention of bestowing on him. Thus, to whatever entreaties he made, inwhatever form they were wrapped, Mary merely replied with an unvariedand obstinate refusal. Darnley, amazed at this force of will in a youngqueen who had loved him enough to raise him to her, and not believingthat she could find it in herself, sought in her entourage for somesecret and influential adviser who might have inspired her with it. Hissuspicions fell on Rizzio. 

In reality, to whatever cause Rizzio owed his power (and to even themost clear-sighted historians this point has always remained obscure), be it that he ruled as lover, be it that he advised as minister, hiscounsels as long as he lived were always given for the greater gloryof the queen. Sprung from so low, he at least wished to show himselfworthy, of having risen so high, and owing everything to Mary, he triedto repay her with devotion. Thus Darnley was not mistaken, and it wasindeed Rizzio who, in despair at having helped to bring about a unionwhich he foresaw must become so unfortunate, gave Mary the advice not togive up any of her power to one who already possessed much more than hedeserved, in possessing her person. 

Darnley, like all persons of both weak and violent character, disbelieved in the persistence of will in others, unless this will wassustained by an outside influence. He thought that in ridding himselfof Rizzio he could not fail to gain the day, since, as he believed, he alone was opposing the grant of this great desire of his, the crownmatrimonial. Consequently, as Rizzio was disliked by the nobles inproportion as his merits had raised him above them, it was easyfor Darnley to organise a conspiracy, and James Douglas of Morton, chancellor of the kingdom, consented to act as chief. 

This is the second time since the beginning of our narrative that weinscribe this name Douglas, so often pronounced, in Scottish history, and which at this time, extinct in the elder branch, known as the BlackDouglases, was perpetuated in the younger branch, known as the RedDouglases. It was an ancient, noble, and powerful family, which, whenthe descent in the male line from Robert Bruce had lapsed, disputed theroyal title with the first Stuart, and which since then had constantlykept alongside the throne, sometimes its support, sometimes its enemy, envying every great house, for greatness made it uneasy, but above allenvious of the house of Hamilton, which, if not its equal, was at anyrate after itself the next most powerful. 

During the whole reign of James V, thanks to the hatred which the kingbore them, the Douglases had: not only lost all their influence, but hadalso been exiled to England. This hatred was on account of their havingseized the guardianship of the young prince and kept him prisoner tillhe was fifteen. Then, with the help of one of his pages, James V hadescaped from Falkland, and had reached Stirling, whose governor wasin his interests. Scarcely was he safe in the castle than he madeproclamation that any Douglas who should approach within a dozenmiles of it would be prosecuted for high treason. This was not all: heobtained a decree from Parliament, declaring them guilty of felony, andcondemning them to exile; they remained proscribed, then, during theking's lifetime, and returned to Scotland only upon his death. Theresult was that, although they had been recalled about the throne, andthough, thanks to the past influence of Murray, who, one remembers, wasa Douglas on the mother's side, they filled the most important poststhere, they had not forgiven to the daughter the enmity borne them bythe father. 

This was why James Douglas, chancellor as he was, and consequentlyentrusted with the execution of the laws, put himself at the head of aconspiracy which had for its aim the violation of all laws; human anddivine. 

Douglas's first idea had been to treat Rizzio as the favourites of JamesIII had been treated at the Bridge of Lauder--that is to say, to make ashow of having a trial and to hang him afterwards. But such a death didnot suffice for Darnley's vengeance; as above everything he wished topunish the queen in Rizzio's person, he exacted that the murder shouldtake place in her presence. 

Douglas associated with himself Lord Ruthven, an idle and dissolutesybarite, who under the circumstances promised to push his devotion sofar as to wear a cuirass; then, sure of this important accomplice, hebusied himself with finding other agents. 

However, the plot was not woven with such secrecy but that something ofit transpired; and Rizzio received several warnings that he despised. Sir James Melville, among others, tried every means to make himunderstand the perils a stranger ran who enjoyed such absoluteconfidence in a wild, jealous court like that of Scotland. Rizzioreceived these hints as if resolved not to apply them to himself;and Sir James Melville, satisfied that he had done enough to ease hisconscience, did not insist further. Then a French priest, who had areputation as a clever astrologer, got himself admitted to Rizzio, andwarned him that the stars predicted that he was in deadly peril, andthat he should beware of a certain bastard above all. Rizzio repliedthat from the day when he had been honoured with his sovereign'sconfidence, he had sacrificed in advance his life to his position; thatsince that time, however, he had had occasion to notice that in generalthe Scotch were ready to threaten but slow to act; that, as to thebastard referred to, who was doubtless the Earl of Murray, he would takecare that he should never enter Scotland far enough for his sword toreach him, were it as long as from Dumfries to Edinburgh; which in otherwords was as much as to say that Murray should remain exiled in Englandfor life, since Dumfries was one of the principal frontier towns. 

Meanwhile the conspiracy proceeded, and Douglas and Ruthven, havingcollected their accomplices and taken their measures, came to Darnley tofinish the compact. As the price of the bloody service they rendered theking, they exacted from him a promise to obtain the pardon of Murrayand the nobles compromised with him in the affair of the "run in everysense". Darnley granted all they asked of him, and a messenger was sentto Murray to inform him of the expedition in preparation, and to invitehim to hold himself in readiness to reenter Scotland at the first noticehe should receive. Then, this point settled, they made Darnley signa paper in which he acknowledged himself the author and chief of theenterprise. The other assassins were the Earl of Morton, the Earl ofRuthven, George Douglas the bastard of Angus, Lindley, and Andrew, Carew. The remainder were soldiers, simple murderers' tools, who did noteven know what was afoot. Darnley reserved it for himself to appoint thetime. 

Two days after these conditions were agreed upon, Darnley having beennotified that the queen was alone with Rizzio, wished to make himselfsure of the degree of her favour enjoyed by the minister. He accordinglywent to her apartment by a little door of which he always kept the keyupon him; but though the key turned in the lock, the door did not open. Then Darnley knocked, announcing himself; but such was the contemptinto which he had fallen with the queen, that Mary left him outside, although, supposing she had been alone with Rizzio, she would have hadtime to send him away. Darnley, driven to extremities by this, summonedMorton, Ruthven, Lennox, Lindley, and Douglas's bastard, and fixed theassassination of Rizzio for two days later. 

They had just completed all the details, and had, distributed the partsthat each must play in this bloody tragedy, when suddenly, and at themoment when they least expected it, the door opened and, Mary Stuartappeared on the threshold. 

"My lords, " said she, "your holding these secret counsels is useless. I am informed of your plots, and with God's help I shall soon apply aremedy". 

With these words, and before the conspirators hid had time to collectthemselves, she shut the door again, and vanished like a passing butthreatening vision. All remained thunderstruck. Morton was the first tofind his tongue. 

"My lords, " said he, "this is a game of life and death, and the winnerwill not be the cleverest or the strongest, but the readiest. If we donot destroy this man, we are lost. We must strike him down, this veryevening, not the day after to-morrow. "

Everyone applauded, even Ruthven, who, still pale and feverish fromriotous living, promised not to be behindhand. The only point changed, on Morton's suggestion, was that the murder should take place next day;for, in the opinion of all, not less than a day's interval was needed tocollect the minor conspirators, who numbered not less than five hundred. 

The next day, which was Saturday, March 9th, 1566, Mary Stuart, who hadinherited from her father, James V, a dislike of ceremony and the needof liberty, had invited to supper with her six persons, Rizzio amongthe number. Darnley, informed of this in the morning, immediately gavenotice of it to the conspirators, telling them that he himself would letthem into the palace between six and seven o'clock in the evening. Theconspirators replied that they would be in readiness. 

The morning had been dark and stormy, as nearly all the first days ofspring are in Scotland, and towards evening the snow and wind redoubledin depth and violence. So Mary had remained shut up with Rizzio, andDarnley, who had gone to the secret door several times, could hear thesound of instruments and the voice of the favourite, who was singingthose sweet melodies which have come down to our time, and whichEdinburgh people still attribute to him. These songs were for Mary areminder of her stay in France, where the artists in the train of theMedicis had already brought echoes from Italy; but for Darnley they werean insult, and each time he had withdrawn strengthened in his design. 

At the appointed time, the conspirators, who had been given the passwordduring the day, knocked at the palace gate, and were received there somuch the more easily that Darnley himself, wrapped in a great cloak, awaited them at the postern by which they were admitted. The fivehundred soldiers immediately stole into an inner courtyard, where theyplaced themselves under some sheds, as much to keep themselves fromthe cold as that they might not be seen on the snow-covered ground. Abrightly lighted window looked into this courtyard; it was that ofthe queen's study: at the first signal give them from this window, the soldiers were to break in the door and go to the help of the chiefconspirators. 

These instructions given, Darnley led Morton, Ruthven, Lennox, Lindley, Andrew Carew, and Douglas's bastard into the room adjoining the study, and only separated from it by a tapestry hanging before the door. Fromthere one could overhear all that was being said, and at a single boundfall upon the guests. 

Darnley left them in this room, enjoining silence; then, giving themas a signal to enter the moment when they should hear him cry, "To me, Douglas!" he went round by the secret passage, so that seeing him comein by his usual door the queen's suspicions might not be roused by hisunlooked-for visit. 

Mary was at supper with six persons, having, say de Thou and Melville, Rizzio seated on her right; while, on the contrary, Carapden assuresus that he was eating standing at a sideboard. The talk was gay andintimate; for all were giving themselves up to the ease one feels atbeing safe and warm, at a hospitable board, while the snow is beatingagainst the windows and the wind roaring in the chimneys. Suddenly Mary, surprised that the most profound silence had succeeded to the lively andanimated flow of words among her guests since the beginning of supper, and suspecting, from their glances, that the cause of their uneasinesswas behind her, turned round and saw Darnley leaning on the back of herchair. The queen shuddered; for although her husband was smiling whenlooking at Rizzio, this smile lead assumed such a strange expressionthat it was clear that something terrible was about to happen. At thesame moment, Mary heard in the next room a heavy, dragging step drewnear the cabinet, then the tapestry was raised, and Lord Ruthven, inarmour of which he could barely support the weight, pale as a ghost, appeared on the threshold, and, drawing his sword in silence, leanedupon it. 

The queen thought he was delirious. 

"What do you want, my lord?" she said to him; "and why do you come tothe palace like this?"

"Ask the king, madam, " replied Ruthven in an indistinct voice. "It isfor him to answer. "

"Explain, my lord, " Mary demanded, turning again towards Darnley; "whatdoes such a neglect of ordinary propriety mean?"

"It means, madam, " returned Darnley, pointing to Rizzio, "that that manmust leave here this very minute. "

"That man is mine, my lord, " Mary said, rising proudly, "andconsequently takes orders only from me. "

"To me, Douglas!" cried Darnley. 

At these words, the conspirators, who for some moments had drawn nearerRuthven, fearing, so changeable was Darnley's character, lest he hadbrought them in vain and would not dare to utter the signal--at thesewords, the conspirators rushed into the room with such haste that theyoverturned the table. Then David Rizzio, seeing that it was he alonethey wanted, threw himself on his knees behind the queen, seizing thehem of her robe and crying in Italian, "Giustizia! giustizia!" Indeed, the queen, true to her character, not allowing herself to be intimidatedby this terrible irruption, placed herself in front of Rizzio andsheltered him behind her Majesty. But she counted too much on therespect of a nobility accustomed to struggle hand to hand with itskings for five centuries. Andrew Carew held a dagger to her breast andthreatened to kill her if she insisted on defending any longer him whosedeath was resolved upon. Then Darnley, without consideration for thequeen's pregnancy, seized her round the waist and bore her away fromRizzio, who remained on his knees pale and trembling, while Douglas'sbastard, confirming the prediction of the astrologer who had warnedRizzio to beware of a certain bastard, drawing the king's own dagger, plunged it into the breast of the minister, who fell wounded, but notdead. Morton immediately took him by the feet and dragged him from thecabinet into the larger room, leaving on the floor that long track ofblood which is still shown there; then, arrived there, each rushed uponhim as upon a quarry, and set upon the corpse, which they stabbed infifty-six places. Meanwhile Darnley held the queen, who, thinking thatall was not over, did not cease crying for mercy. But Ruthven came back, paler than at first, and at Darnley's inquiry if Rizzio were dead, henodded in the affirmative; then, as he could not bear further fatiguein his convalescent state, he sat down, although the queen, whom Darnleyhad at last released, remained standing on the same spot. At this Marycould not contain herself. 

"My lord, " cried she, "who has given you permission to sit down in mypresence, and whence comes such insolence?"

"Madam, " Ruthven answered, "I act thus not from insolence, but fromweakness; for, to serve your husband, I have just taken more exercisethan my doctors allow". Then turning round to a servant, "Give mea glass of wine, " said he, showing Darnley his bloody dagger beforeputting it back in its sheath, "for here is the proof that I have wellearned it". The servant obeyed, and Ruthven drained his glass with asmuch calmness as if he had just performed the most innocent act. 

"My lord, " the queen then said, taking a step towards him, "it may bethat as I am a woman, in spite of my desire and my will, I never findan opportunity to repay you what you are doing to me; but, " she added, energetically striking her womb with her hand, "he whom I bear there, and whose life you should have respected, since you respect my Majestyso little, will one day revenge me for all these insults". Then, with agesture at once superb and threatening, she withdrew by Darnley's door, which she closed behind her. 

At that moment a great noise was heard in the queen's room. Huntly, Athol, and Bothwell, who, we are soon about to see, play such animportant part in the sequel of this history, were supping together inanother hall of the palace, when suddenly they had heard outcries andthe clash of arms, so that they had run with all speed. When Athol, whocame first, without knowing whose it was, struck against the deadbody of Rizzio, which was stretched at the top of the staircase, theybelieved, seeing someone assassinated, that the lives of the king andqueen were threatened, and they had drawn their swords to force the doorthat Morton was guarding. But directly Darnley understood what was goingon, he darted from the cabinet, followed by Ruthven, and showing himselfto the newcomers--

"My lords, " he said, "the persons of the queen and myself are safe, andnothing has occurred here but by our orders. Withdraw, then; you willknow more about it in time. As to him, " he added, holding up Rizzio'shead by the hair, whilst the bastard of Douglas lit up the face with atorch so that it could be recognised, "you see who it is, and whether itis worth your while to get into trouble for him". 

And in fact, as soon as Huntly, Athol, and Bothwell had recognised themusician-minister, they sheathed their swords, and, having saluted theking, went away. 

Mary had gone away with a single thought in her heart, vengeance. Butshe understood that she could not revenge herself at one and the sametime on her husband and his companions: she set to work, then, withall the charms of her wit and beauty to detach the kind from hisaccomplices. It was not a difficult task: when that brutal rage whichoften carried Darnley beyond all bounds was spent, he was frightenedhimself at the crime he had committed, and while the assassins, assembled by Murray, were resolving that he should have that greatlydesired crown matrimonial, Darnley, as fickle as he was violent, and ascowardly as he was cruel, in Mary's very room, before the scarcelydried blood, made another compact, in which he engaged to deliver uphis accomplices. Indeed, three days after the event that we have justrelated, the murderers learned a strange piece of news--that Darnleyand Mary, accompanied by Lord Seyton, had escaped together from HolyroodPalace. Three days later still, a proclamation appeared, signed by Maryand dated from Dunbar, which summoned round the queen, in her own nameand the king's, all the Scottish lords and barons, including those whohad been compromised in the affair of the "run in every sense, " to whomshe not only granted full and complete pardon, but also restored herentire confidence. In this way she separated Murray's cause from thatof Morton and the other assassins, who, in their turn, seeing that therewas no longer any safety for them in Scotland, fled to England, whereall the queen's enemies were always certain to find a warm welcome, inspite of the good relations which reigned in appearance between Mary andElizabeth. As to Bothwell, who had wanted to oppose the assassination, he was appointed Warden of all the Marches of the Kingdom. 

Unfortunately for her honour, Mary, always more the woman than thequeen, while, on the contrary, Elizabeth was always more the queen thanthe woman, had no sooner regained her power than her first royal act wasto exhume Rizzio, who had been quietly buried on the threshold ofthe chapel nearest Holyrood Palace, and to have him removed to theburial-place of the Scottish kings, compromising herself still more bythe honours she paid him dead than by the favour she had granted himliving. 

Such an imprudent demonstration naturally led to fresh quarrels betweenMary and Darnley: these quarrels were the more bitter that, as one canwell understand, the reconciliation between the husband and wife, atleast on the latter's side, had never been anything but a pretence; sothat, feeling herself in a stronger position still on account of herpregnancy, she restrained herself no longer, and, leaving Darnley, shewent from Dunbar to Edinburgh Castle, where on June 19th, 1566, threemonths after the assassination of Rizzio, she gave birth to a son whoafterwards became James VI. 

CHAPTER III

Directly she was delivered, Mary sent for James Melville, her usualenvoy to Elizabeth, and charged him to convey this news to the Queen ofEngland, and to beg her to be godmother to the royal child at the sametime. On arriving in London, Melville immediately presented himself atthe palace; but as there was a court ball, he could not see the queen, and contented himself with making known the reason for his journey tothe minister Cecil, and with begging him to ask his mistress for anaudience next day. Elizabeth was dancing in a quadrille at the momentwhen Cecil, approaching her, said in a low voice, "Queen Mary ofScotland has just given birth to a son". At these words she grewfrightfully pale, and, looking about her with a bewildered air, and asif she were about to faint, she leaned against an arm-chair; then, soon, not being able to stand upright, she sat down, threw back her head, andplunged into a mournful reverie. Then one of the ladies of her court, breaking through the circle which had formed round the queen, approachedher, ill at ease, and asked her of what she was thinking so sadly. "Ah!madam, " Elizabeth replied impatiently, "do you not know that Mary Stuarthas given birth to a son, while I am but a barren stock, who will diewithout offspring?"

Yet Elizabeth was too good a politician, in spite of her liability tobe carried away by a first impulse, to compromise herself by a longerdisplay of her grief. The ball was not discontinued on that account, andthe interrupted quadrille was resumed and finished. 

The next day, Melville had his audience. Elizabeth received him toperfection, assuring him of all the pleasure that the news he broughthad caused her, and which, she said, had cured her of a complaintfrom which she had suffered for a fortnight. Melville replied that hismistress had hastened to acquaint her with her joy, knowing that she hadno better friend; but he added that this joy had nearly cost Mary herlife, so grievous had been her confinement. As he was returning to thispoint for the third time, with the object of still further increasingthe queen of England's dislike to marriage--

"Be easy, Melville, " Elizabeth answered him; "you need not insist uponit. I shall never marry; my kingdom takes the place of a husband forme, and my subjects are my children. When I am dead, I wish graven on mytombstone: 'Here lies Elizabeth, who reigned so many years, and who dieda virgin. '"

Melville availed himself of this opportunity to remind Elizabeth ofthe desire she had shown to see Mary, three or four years before; butElizabeth said, besides her country's affairs, which necessitated herpresence in the heart of her possessions, she did not care, afterall she had heard said of her rival's beauty, to expose herself to acomparison disadvantageous to her pride. She contented herself, then, with choosing as her proxy the Earl of Bedford, who set out withseveral other noblemen for Stirling Castle, where the young prince waschristened with great pomp, and received the name of Charles James. 

It was remarked that Darnley did not appear at this ceremony, and thathis absence seemed to scandalise greatly the queen of England's envoy. On the contrary, James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, had the most importantplace there. 

This was because, since the evening when Bothwell, at Mary's cries, hadrun to oppose the murder of Rizzio, he had made great way in the queen'sfavour; to her party he himself appeared to be really attached, tothe exclusion of the two others, the king's and the Earl of Murray's. Bothwell was already thirty-five years old, head of the powerful familyof Hepburn, which had great influence in East Lothian and the countyof Berwick; for the rest, violent, rough, given to every kind ofdebauchery, and capable of anything to satisfy an ambition that he didnot even give himself the trouble to hide. In his youth he had beenreputed courageous, but for long he had had no serious opportunity todraw the sword. 

If the king's authority had been shaken by Rizzio's influence, itwas entirely upset by Bothwell's. The great nobles, following thefavourite's example, no longer rose in the presence of Darnley, andceased little by little to treat him as their equal: his retinue was cutdown, his silver plate taken from him, and some officers who remainedabout him made him buy their services with the most bitter vexations. As for the queen, she no longer even took the trouble to conceal herdislike for him, avoiding him without consideration, to such a degreethat one day when she had gone with Bothwell to Alway, she left thereagain immediately, because Darnley came to join her. The king, however, still had patience; but a fresh imprudence of Mary's at last led to theterrible catastrophe that, since the queen's liaison with Bothwell, somehad already foreseen. 

Towards the end of the month of October, 1566, while the queen washolding a court of justice at Jedburgh, it was announced to her thatBothwell, in trying to seize a malefactor called John Elliot of Park, had been badly wounded in the hand; the queen, who was about to attendthe council, immediately postponed the sitting till next day, and, having ordered a horse to be saddled, she set out for Hermitage Castle, where Bothwell was living, and covered the distance at a stretch, although it was twenty miles, and she had to go across woods, marshes, and rivers; then, having remained some hours tete-a-tete with him, sheset out again with the same sped for Jedburgh, to which she returned inthe night. 

Although this proceeding had made a great deal of talk, which wasinflamed still more by the queen's enemies, who chiefly belonged to theReformed religion, Darnley did not hear of it till nearly two monthsafterwards--that is to say, when Bothwell, completely recovered, returned with the queen to Edinburgh. 

Then Darnley thought that he ought not to put up any longer with suchhumiliations. But as, since his treason to his accomplices, he had notfound in all Scotland a noble who would have drawn the sword for him, he resolved to go and seek the Earl of Lennox, his father, hoping thatthrough his influence he could rally the malcontents, of whom therewere a great number since Bothwell had been in favour. Unfortunately, Darnley, indiscreet and imprudent as usual, confided this plan tosome of his officers, who warned Bothwell of their master's intention. Bothwell did not seem to oppose the journey in any way; but Darnley wasscarcely a mile from Edinburgh when he felt violent pains none the less, he continued his road, and arrived very ill at Glasgow. He immediatelysent for a celebrated doctor, called James Abrenets, who found his bodycovered with pimples, and declared without any hesitation that he hadbeen poisoned. However, others, among them Walter Scott, state that thisillness was nothing else than smallpox. 

Whatever it may have been, the queen, in the presence of the danger herhusband ran, appeared to forget her resentment, and at the risk of whatmight prove troublesome to herself, she went to Darnley, after sendingher doctor in advance. It is true that if one is to believe in thefollowing letters, dated from Glasgow, which Mary is accused of havingwritten to Bothwell, she knew the illness with which he was attacked toowell to fear infection. As these letters are little known, and seem tous very singular we transcribe them here; later we shall tell how theyfell into the power of the Confederate lords, and from their handspassed into Elizabeth's, who, quite delighted, cried on receiving them, "God's death, then I hold her life and honour in my hands!"

FIRST LETTER. 

"When I set out from the place where I had left my heart, judge in whata condition I was, poor body without a soul: besides, during the wholeof dinner I have not spoken to anyone, and no one has dared to approachme, for it was easy to see that there was something amiss. When Iarrived within a league of the town, the Earl of Lennox sent me one ofhis gentlemen to make me his compliments, and to excuse himself for nothaving come in person; he has caused me to be informed, moreover, thathe did not dare to present himself before me after the reprimand that Igave Cunningham. This gentleman begged me, as if of his own accord, toexamine his master's conduct, to ascertain if my suspicions were wellfounded. I have replied to him that fear was an incurable disease, thatthe Earl of Lennox would not be so agitated if his conscience reproachedhim with nothing, and that if some hasty words had escaped me, they werebut just reprisals for the letter he had written me. 

"None of the inhabitants visited me, which makes me think they are allin his interests; besides, they speak of him very favourably, as well asof his son. The king sent for Joachim yesterday, and asked him why Idid not lodge with him, adding that my presence would soon cure him, andasked me also with what object I had come: if it were to be reconciledwith him; if you were here; if I had taken Paris and Gilbert assecretaries, and if I were still resolved to dismiss Joseph? I do notknow who has given him such accurate information. There is nothing, down to the marriage of Sebastian, with which he has not made himselfacquainted. I have asked him the meaning of one of his letters, inwhich he complains of the cruelty of certain people. He replied thathe was--stricken, but that my presence caused him so much joy that hethought he should die of it. He reproached me several times for beingdreamy; I left him to go to supper; he begged me to return: I went back. Then he told me the story of his illness, and that he wished to make awill leaving me everything, adding that I was a little the cause of histrouble, and that he attributed it to my coldness. 'You ask me, ' addedhe, 'who are the people of whom I complain: it is of you, cruel one, of you, whom I have never been able to appease by my tears and myrepentance. I know that I have offended you, but not on the matter thatyou reproach me with: I have also offended some of your subjects, butthat you have forgiven me. I am young, and you say that I always relapseinto my faults; but cannot a young man like me, destitute of experience, gain it also, break his promises, repent directly, and in time improve?If you will forgive me yet once more, I will promise to offend you neveragain. All the favour I ask of you is that we should live togetherlike husband and wife, to have but one bed and one board: if you areinflexible, I shall never rise again from here. I entreat you, tell meyour decision: God alone knows what I suffer, and that because I occupymyself with you only, because I love and adore only you. If I haveoffended you sometimes, you must bear the reproach; for when someoneoffends me, if it were granted me to complain to you, I should notconfide my griefs to others; but when we are on bad terms, I am obligedto keep them to myself, and that maddens me. '

"He then urged me strongly to stay with him and lodge in his house; butI excused myself, and replied that he ought to be purged, and that hecould not be, conveniently, at Glasgow; then he told me that he knew Ihad brought a letter for him, but that he would have preferred to makethe journey with me. He believed, I think, that I meant to send him tosome prison: I replied that I should take him to Craigmiller, that hewould find doctors there, that I should remain near him, and that weshould be within reach of seeing my son. He has answered that he will gowhere I wish to take him, provided that I grant him what he has asked. He does not, however, wish to be seen by anyone. 

"He has told me more than a hundred pretty things that I cannot repeatto you, and at which you yourself would be surprised: he did not want tolet me go; he wanted to make me sit up with him all night. As for me, Ipretended to believe everything, and I seemed to interest myself reallyin him. Besides, I have never seen him so small and humble; and if I hadnot known how easily his heart overflows, and how mine is impervious toevery other arrow than those with which you have wounded it, I believethat I should have allowed myself to soften; but lest that should alarmyou, I would die rather than give up what I have promised you. As foryou, be sure to act in the same way towards those traitors who will doall they can to separate you from me. I believe that all those peoplehave been cast in the same mould: this one always has a tear in hiseye; he bows down before everyone, from the greatest to the smallest;he wishes to interest them in his favour, and make himself pitied. Hisfather threw up blood to-day through the nose and mouth; think whatthese symptoms mean. I have not seen him yet, for he keeps to the house. The king wants me to feed him myself; he won't eat unless I do. But, whatever I may do, you will be deceived by it no more than I shallbe deceiving myself. We are united, you and I, to two kinds of verydetestable people [Mary means Miss Huntly, Bothwell's wife, whom herepudiated, at the king's death, to marry the queen. ]: that hell maysever these knots then, and that heaven may form better ones, thatnothing can break, that it may make of us the most tender and faithfulcouple that ever was; there is the profession of faith in which I woulddie. 

"Excuse my scrawl: you must guess more than the half of it, but I knowno help for this. I am obliged to write to you hastily while everyoneis asleep here: but be easy, I take infinite pleasure in my watch; forI cannot sleep like the others, not being able to sleep as I wouldlike--that is to say, in your arms. 

"I am going to get into bed; I shall finish my letter tomorrow: I havetoo many things to tell to you, the night is too far advanced: imaginemy despair. It is to you I am writing, it is of myself that I conversewith you, and I am obliged to make an end. 

"I cannot prevent myself, however, from filling up hastily the rest ofmy paper. Cursed be the crazy creature who torments me so much! Wereit not for him, I could talk to you of more agreeable things: he is notgreatly changed; and yet he has taken a great deal o f %t. But he hasnearly killed me with the fetid smell of his breath; for now his isstill worse than your cousin's: you guess that this is a fresh reasonfor my not approaching him; on the contrary, I go away as far as I can, and sit on a chair at the foot of his bed. 

"Let us see if I forget anything. 

 "His father's messenger on the road; The question about Joachim; The-state of my house; The people of my suite; Subject of my arrival; Joseph; Conversation between him and me; His desire to please me and his repentance; The explanation of his letter; Mr. Livingston. 

"Ah! I was forgetting that. Yesterday Livingston during supper told deRere in a low voice to drink to the health of one I knew well, andto beg me to do him the honour. After supper, as I was leaning on hisshoulder near the fire, he said to me, 'Is it not true that there arevisits very agreeable for those who pay them and those who receive them?But, however satisfied they seem with your arrival, I challenge theirdelight to equal the grief of one whom you have left alone to-day, andwho will never be content till he sees you again. ' I asked him of whomhe wished to speak to me. He then answered me by pressing my arm: 'Ofone of those who have not followed you; and among those it is easy foryou to guess of whom I want to speak. '

"I have worked till two o'clock at the bracelet; I have enclosed alittle key which is attached by two strings: it is not as well workedas I should like, but I have not had time to make it better; I will makeyou a finer one on the first occasion. Take care that it is not seen onyou; for I have worked at it before everyone, and it would be recognisedto a certainty. 

"I always return, in spite of myself, to the frightful attempt that youadvise. You compel me to concealments, and above all to treacheries thatmake me shudder; I would rather die, believe me, than do such things;for it makes my heart bleed. He does not want to follow me unless Ipromise him to have the selfsame bed and board with him as before, andnot to abandon him so often. If I consent to it, he says he will do allI wish, and will follow me everywhere; but he has begged me to put offmy departure for two days. I have pretended to agree to all he wishes;but I have told him not to speak of our reconciliation to anyone, for fear it should make some lords uneasy. At last I shall take himeverywhere I wish. . . . Alas! I have never deceived anyone; but what wouldI not do to please you? Command, and whatever happens, I shall obey. Butsee yourself if one could not contrive some secret means in the shape ofa remedy. He must purge himself at Craigmiller and take baths there;he will be some days without going out. So far as I can see, he isvery uneasy; but he has great trust in what I tell him: however, hisconfidence does not go so far as to allow him to open his mind to me. If you like, I will tell him every thing: I can have no pleasure indeceiving someone who is trusting. However, it will be just as you wish:do not esteem me the less for that. It is you advised it; never wouldvengeance have taken me so far. Sometimes he attacks me in a verysensitive place, and he touches me to the quick when he tells me thathis crimes are known, but that every day greater ones are committed thatone uselessly attempts to hide, since all crimes, whatsoever they be, great or small, come to men's knowledge and form the common subject oftheir discourse. He adds sometimes, in speaking to me of Madame de Rere, 'I wish her services may do you honour. ' He has assured me that manypeople thought, and that he thought himself, that I was not my ownmistress; this is doubtless because I had rejected the conditions heoffered me. Finally, it is certain that he is very uneasy about youknow what, and that he even suspects that his life is aimed at. He isin despair whenever the conversation turns on you, Livingston, and mybrother. However, he says neither good nor ill of absent people; but, onthe contrary, he always avoids speaking of them. His father keeps to thehouse: I have not seen him yet. A number of the Hamiltons are here, andaccompany me everywhere; all the friends of the other one follow me eachtime I go to see him. He has begged me to be at his rising to-morrow. Mymessenger will tell you the rest. 

"Burn my letter: there would be danger in keeping it. Besides, it ishardly worth the trouble, being filled only with dark thoughts. 

"As for you, do not be offended if I am sad and uneasy to-day, that toplease you I rise above honour, remorse, and dangers. Do not take in badpart what I tell you, and do not listen to the malicious explanationsof your wife's brother; he is a knave whom you ought not to hear to theprejudice of the most tender and most faithful mistress that ever was. Above all, do not allow yourself to be moved by that woman: her shamtears are nothing in comparison with the real tears that I shed, andwith what love and constancy make me suffer at succeeding her; it is forthat alone that in spite of myself I betray all those who could crossmy love. God have mercy on me, and send you all the prosperity that ahumble and tender friend who awaits from you soon another reward wishesyou. It is very late; but it is always with regret that I lay down mypen when I write to you; however, I shall not end my letter until Ishall have kissed your hands. Forgive me that it is so ill-written:perhaps I do so expressly that you may be obliged to re-read it severaltimes: I have transcribed hastily what I had written down on my tablets, and my paper has given out. Remember a tender friend, and write to heroften: love me as tenderly as I love you, and remember

 "Madame de Rere's words; The English; His mother; The Earl of Argyll; The Earl of Bothwell; The Edinburgh dwelling. "

SECOND LETTER. 

"It seems that you have forgotten me during your absence, so much themore that you had promised me, at setting out, to let me know in detaileverything fresh that should happen. The hope of receiving your news wasgiving me almost as much delight as your return could have brought me:you have put it off longer than you promised me. As for me, although youdo not write, I play my part always. I shall take him to Craigmiller onMonday, and he will spend the whole of Wednesday there. On that day Ishall go to Edinburgh to be bled there, unless you arrange otherwise atleast. He is more cheerful than usual, and he is better than ever. 

"He says everything he can to persuade me that he loves me; he has athousand attentions for me, and he anticipates me in everything: allthat is so pleasant for me, that I never go to him but the pain in myside comes on again, his company weighs on me so much. If Paris broughtme what I asked him, I should be soon cured. If you have not yetreturned when I go you know where, write to me, I beg you, and tell mewhat you wish me to do; for if you do not manage things prudently, Iforesee that the whole burden will fall on me: look into everything andweigh the affair maturely. I send you my letter by Beaton, who will setout the day which has been assigned to Balfour. It only remains for meto beg you to inform me of your journey. 

"Glasgow, this Saturday morning. "

THIRD LETTER. 

"I stayed you know where longer than I should have done, if it had notbeen to get from him something that the bearer of these presents willtell you it was a good opportunity for covering up our designs: I havepromised him to bring the person you know to-morrow. Look after therest, if you think fit. Alas! I have failed in our agreement, for youhave forbidden me to write to you, or to despatch a messenger to you. However, I do not intend to offend you: if you knew with what fears I amagitated, you would not have yourself so many doubts and suspicions. But I take them in good part, persuaded as I am that they have no othercause than love--love that I esteem more than anything on earth. 

"My feelings and my favours are to me sure warrants for that love, and answer to me for your heart; my trust is entire on this head: butexplain yourself, I entreat you, and open your soul to me; otherwise, I shall fear lest, by the fatality of my star, and by the too fortunateinfluence of the stars on women less tender and less faithful than I, Imay be supplanted in your heart as Medea was in Jason's; not that Iwish to compare you to a lover as unfortunate as Jason, and to parallelmyself with a monster like Medea, although you have enough influenceover me to force me to resemble her each time our love exacts it, andthat it concerns me to keep your heart, which belongs to me, and whichbelongs to me only. For I name as belonging to me what I have purchasedwith the tender and constant love with which I have burned for you, alove more alive to-day than ever, and which will end only with mylife; a love, in short, which makes me despise both the dangers andthe remorse which will be perhaps its sad sequel. As the price of thissacrifice, I ask you but one favour, it is to remember a spot not farfrom here: I do not exact that you should keep your promise to-morrow;but I want to see you to disperse your suspicions. I ask of God only onething: it is that He should make you read my heart, which is less minethan yours, and that He should guard you from every ill, at least duringmy life: this life is dear to me only in so far as it pleases you, andas I please you myself. I am going to bed: adieu; give me your newsto-morrow morning; for I shall be uneasy till I have it. Like a birdescaped from its cage, or the turtle-dove which has lost her mate, Ishall be alone, weeping your absence, short as it may be. This letter, happier than I, will go this evening where I cannot go, provided thatthe messenger does not find you asleep, as I fear. I have not dared towrite it in the presence of Joseph, of Sebastian, and of Joachim, whohad only just left me when I began it. "

Thus, as one sees, and always supposing these letters to be genuine, Mary had conceived for Bothwell one of those mad passions, so muchthe stronger in the women who are a prey to them, that one the lessunderstands what could have inspired them. Bothwell was no longer young, Bothwell was not handsome, and yet Mary sacrificed for him a younghusband, who was considered one of the handsomest men of his century. Itwas like a kind of enchantment. Darnley, the sole obstacle to the union, had been already condemned for a long time, if not by Mary, at leastby Bothwell; then, as his strong constitution had conquered the poison, another kind of death was sought for. 

The queen, as she announces in her letter to Bothwell, had refusedto bring back Darnley with her, and had returned alone to Edinburgh. Arrived there, she gave orders for the king to be moved, in his turn, ina litter; but instead of taking him to Stirling or Holyrood, she decidedto lodge him in the abbey of the Kirk of Field. The king made someobjections when he knew of this arrangement; however, as he had no powerto oppose it, he contented himself with complaining of the solitude ofthe dwelling assigned him; but the queen made answer that she could notreceive him at that moment, either at Holyrood or at Stirling, forfear, if his illness were infectious, lest he might give it to his son:Darnley was then obliged to make the best of the abode allotted him. 

It was an isolated abbey, and little calculated by its position todissipate the fears that the king entertained; for it was situatedbetween two ruined churches and two cemeteries: the only house, whichwas distant about a shot from a cross-bow, belonged to the Hamiltons, and as they were Darnley's mortal enemies the neighbourhood was none themore reassuring: further, towards the north, rose some wretched huts, called the "Thieves' cross-roads". In going round his new residence, Darnley noticed that three holes, each large enough for a man to getthrough, had been made in the walls; he asked that these holes, throughwhich ill-meaning persons could get in, should be stopped up: it waspromised that masons should be sent; but nothing was done, and the holesremained open. 

The day after his arrival at Kirk of Field, the king saw a light in thathouse near his which lie believed deserted; next day he asked AlexanderDurham whence it came, and he heard that the Archbishop of St. Andrew'shad left his palace in Edinburgh and had housed there since thepreceding evening, one didn't know why: this news still furtherincreased the king's uneasiness; the Archbishop of St. Andrew's was oneof his most declared enemies. 

The king, little by little abandoned by all his servants lived on thefirst floor of an isolated pavilion, having about him only this sameAlexander Durham, whom we have mentioned already, and who was his valet. Darnley, who had quite a special friendship for him, and who besides, aswe have said, feared some attack on his life at every moment, had madehim move his bed into his own apartment, so that both were sleeping inthe same room. 

On the night of the 8th February, Darnley awoke Durham: he thought heheard footsteps in the apartment beneath him. Durham rose, took a swordin one hand, a taper in the other, and went down to the ground floor;but although Darnley was quite certain he had not been deceived, Durhamcame up again a moment after, saying he had seen no one. 

The morning of the next day passed without bringing anything fresh. The queen was marrying one of her servants named Sebastian: he was anAuvergnat whom she had brought with her from France, and whom she likedvery much. However, as the king sent word that he had not seen her fortwo days, she left the wedding towards six o'clock in the evening, andcame to pay him a visit, accompanied by the Countess of Argyll and theCountess of Huntly. While she was there, Durham, in preparing his bed, set fire to his palliasse, which was burned as well as a part of themattress; so that, having thrown them out of the window all in flames, for fear lest the fire should reach the rest of the furniture, he foundhimself without a bed, and asked permission to return to the town tosleep; but Darnley, who remembered his terror the night before, andwho was surprised at the promptness that had made Durham throw all hisbedding out of the window, begged him not to go away, offering him oneof his mattresses, or even to take him into his own bed. However, inspite of this offer, Durham insisted, saying that he felt unwell, andthat he should like to see a doctor the same evening. So the queeninterceded for Durham, and promised Darnley to send him another valet tospend the night with him: Darnley was then obliged to yield, and, makingMary repeat that she would send him someone, he gave Durham leave forthat evening. At that moment Paris; of whom the queen speaks in herletters, came in: he was a young Frenchman who had been in Scotland forsome years, and who, after having served with Bothwell and Seyton, wasat present with the queen. Seeing him, she got up, and as Darnley stillwished to keep her--

"Indeed, my lord, it is impossible, " said she, "to come and see you. Ihave left this poor Sebastian's wedding, and I must return to it; for Ipromised to came masked to his ball. "

The king dared not insist; he only reminded her of the promise that shehad made to send him a servant: Mary renewed it yet once again, and wentaway with her attendants. As for Durham, he had set out the moment hereceived permission. 

It was nine o'clock in the evening. Darnley, left alone, carefully shutthe doors within, and retired to rest, though in readiness to rise tolet in the servant who should come to spend the night with him. Scarcelywas he in bed than the same noise that he had heard the night beforerecommenced; this time Darnley listened with all the attention feargives, and soon he had no longer any doubt but that several men werewalking about beneath him. It was useless to call, it was dangerous togo out; to wait was the only course that remained to the king. He madesure again that the doors were well fastened, put his sword under hispillow, extinguished his lamp for fear the light might betray him, andawaited in silence for his servant's arrival; but the hours passed away, and the servant did not come. At one o'clock in the morning, Bothwell, after having talked some while with the queen, in the presence of thecaptain of the guard, returned home to change his dress; after someminutes, he came out wrapped up in the large cloak of a German hussar, went through the guard-house, and had the castle gate opened. Onceoutside, he took his way with all speed to Kirk of Field, which heentered by the opening in the wall: scarcely had he made a step in thegarden than he met James Balfour, governor of the castle. 

"Well, " he said to him, "how far have we got?

"Everything is ready, " replied Balfour, "and we were waiting for you toset fire to the fuse". "That is well, " Bothwell answered--"but first Iwant to make sure that he is in his room. "

At these words, Bothwell opened the pavilion door with a false key, and, having groped his way up the stairs; he went to listen at Darnley'sdoor. Darnley, hearing no further noise, had ended by going to sleep;but he slept with a jerky breathing which pointed to his agitation. Little mattered it to Bothwell what kind of sleep it was, provided thathe was really in his room. He went down again in silence, then, as hehad come up, and taking a lantern from one of the conspirators, he wenthimself into the lower room to see if everything was in order: this roomwas full of barrels of powder, and a fuse ready prepared wanted but aspark to set the whole on fire. Bothwell withdrew, then, to the endof the garden with Balfour, David, Chambers, and three or four others, leaving one man to ignite the fuse. In a moment this man rejoined them. 

There ensued some minutes of anxiety, during which the five men lookedat one another in silence and as if afraid of themselves; then, seeing that nothing exploded, Bothwell impatiently turned round to theengineer, reproaching him for having, no doubt through fear, done hiswork badly. He assured his master that he was certain everything wasall right, and as Bothwell, impatient, wanted to return to the househimself, to make sure, he offered to go back and see how things stood. In fact, he went back to the pavilion, and, putting his head through akind of air-hole, he saw the fuse, which was still burning. Some secondsafterwards, Bothwell saw him come running back, making a sign that allwas going well; at the same moment a frightful report was heard, thepavilion was blown to pieces, the town and the firth were lit up witha clearness exceeding the brightest daylight; then everything fell backinto night, and the silence was broken only by the fall of stones andjoists, which came down as fast as hail in a hurricane. 

Next day the body of the king was found in a garden in theneighbourhood: it had been saved from the action of the fire by themattresses on which he was lying, and as, doubtless, in his terror hehad merely thrown himself on his bed wrapped in his dressing-gown and inhis slippers, and as he was found thus, without his slippers, which wereflung some paces away, it was believed that he had been first strangled, then carried there; but the most probable version was that the murdererssimply relied upon powder--an auxiliary sufficiently powerful in itselffor them to have no fear it would fail them. 

Was the queen an accomplice or not? No one has ever known save herself, Bothwell, and God; but, yes or no, her conduct, imprudent this timeas always, gave the charge her enemies brought against her, if notsubstance, at least an appearance of truth. Scarcely had she heard thenews than she gave orders that the body should be brought to her, and, having had it stretched out upon a bench, she looked at it with morecuriosity than sadness; then the corpse, embalmed, was placed the sameevening, without pomp, by the side of Rizzio's. 

Scottish ceremonial prescribes for the widows of kings retirement forforty days in a room entirely closed to the light of day: on the twelfthday Mary had the windows opened, and on the fifteenth set out withBothwell for Seaton, a country house situated five miles from thecapital, where the French ambassador, Ducroc, went in search of her, and made her remonstrances which decided her to return to Edinburgh; butinstead of the cheers which usually greeted her coming, she was receivedby an icy silence, and a solitary woman in the crowd called out, "Godtreat her as she deserves!"

The names of the murderers were no secret to the people. Bothwell havingbrought a splendid coat which was too large for him to a tailor, asking him to remake it to his measure, the man recognised it as havingbelonged to the king. "That's right, " said he; "it is the custom forthe executioner to inherit from the-condemned". Meanwhile, the Earl ofLennox, supported by the people's murmurs, loudly demanded justice forhis son's death, and came forward as the accuser of his murderers. The queen was then obliged, to appease paternal clamour and publicresentment, to command the Earl of Argyll, the Lord Chief Justice of thekingdom, to make investigations; the same day that this order was given, a proclamation was posted up in the streets of Edinburgh, in which thequeen promised two thousand pounds sterling to whoever would make knownthe king's murderers. Next day, wherever this letter had been affixed, another placard was found, worded thus:

"As it has been proclaimed that those who should make known the king'smurderers should have two thousand pounds sterling, I, who have madea strict search, affirm that the authors of the murder are the Earlof Bothwell, James Balfour, the priest of Flisk, David, Chambers, Blackmester, Jean Spens, and the queen herself. "

This placard was torn down; but, as usually happens, it had already beenread by the entire population. 

The Earl of Lennox accused Bothwell, and public opinion, which alsoaccused him, seconded the earl with such violence, that Mary wascompelled to bring him to trial: only every precaution was taken todeprive the prosecutor of the power of convicting the accused. On the28th March, the Earl of Lennox received notice that the 12th April wasfixed for the trial: he was granted a fortnight to collect decisiveproofs against the most powerful man in all Scotland; but the Earl ofLennox, judging that this trial was a mere mockery, did not appear. Bothwell, on the contrary, presented himself at the court, accompaniedby five thousand partisans and two hundred picked fusiliers, who guardedthe doors directly he had entered; so that he seemed to be rather a kingwho is about to violate the law than an accused who comes to submit toit. Of course there happened what was certain to happen--that is to say, the jury acquitted Bothwell of the crime of which everyone, the judgesincluded, knew him to be guilty. 

The day of the trial, Bothwell had this written challenge placarded:

"Although I am sufficiently cleared of the murder of the king, of whichI have been falsely accused, yet, the better to prove my innocence, Iam, ready to engage in combat with whomsoever will dare to maintain thatI have killed the king. "

The day after, this reply appeared:

"I accept the challenge, provided that you select neutral ground. "

However, judgment had been barely given, when rumours of a marriagebetween the queen and the Earl of Bothwell were abroad. However strangeand however mad this marriage, the relations of the two lovers were sowell known that no one doubted but that it was true. But as everyonesubmitted to Bothwell, either through fear or through ambition, two menonly dared to protest beforehand against this union: the one was LordHerries, and the other James Melville. 

Mary was at Stirling when Lord Herries, taking advantage of Bothwell'smomentary absence, threw himself at her feet, imploring her not to loseher honour by marrying her husband's murderer, which could not fail toconvince those who still doubted it that she was his accomplice. But thequeen, instead of thanking Herries for this devotion, seemed very muchsurprised at his boldness, and scornfully signing to him to rise, she coldly replied that her heart was silent as regarded the Earl ofBothwell, and that, if she should ever re-marry, which was not probable, she would neither forget what she owed to her people nor what she owedto herself. 

Melville did not allow himself to be discouraged by this experience, and pretended, to have received a letter that one of his friends, ThomasBishop, had written him from England. He showed this letter to thequeen; but at the first lines Mary recognised the style, and above allthe friendship of her ambassador, and giving the letter to the Earl ofLivingston, who was present, "There is a very singular letter, " saidshe. "Read it. It is quite in Melvine's manner. "

Livingston glanced through the letter, but had scarcely read the half ofit when he took Melville by the hand, and drawing him into the embrasureof a window, "My dear Melville, " said he, "you were certainly mad when you just nowimparted this letter to the queen: as soon as the Earl of Bothwell getswind of it, and that will not be long, he will have you assassinated. You have behaved like an honest man, it is true; but at court it isbetter to behave as a clever man. Go away, then, as quickly as possible;it is I who recommend it. "

Melville did not require to be told twice, and stayed away for a week. Livingston was not mistaken: scarcely had Bothwell returned to thequeen than he knew all that had passed. He burst out into curses againstMelville, and sought for him everywhere; but he could not find him. 

This beginning of opposition, weak as it was, none the less disquietedBothwell, who, sure of Mary's love, resolved to make short work ofthings. Accordingly, as the queen was returning from Stirling toEdinburgh some days after the scenes we have just related, Bothwellsuddenly appeared at the Bridge of Grammont with a thousand horsemen, and, having disarmed the Earl of Huntly, Livingston, and Melville, whohad returned to his mistress, he seized the queen's horse by the bridle, and with apparent violence he forced Mary to turn back and follow him toDunbar; which the queen did without any resistance--a strange thing forone of Mary's character. 

The day following, the Earls of Huntly, Livingston, Melville, and thepeople in their train were set at liberty; then, ten days afterwards, Bothwell and the queen, perfectly reconciled, returned to Edinburghtogether. 

Two days after this return, Bothwell gave a great dinner to the nobleshis partisans in a tavern. When the meal was ended, on the very sametable, amid half-drained glasses and empty bottles, Lindsay, Ruthven, Morton, Maitland, and a dozen or fifteen other noblemen signed a bondwhich not only set forth that upon their souls and consciences Bothwellwas innocent, but which further denoted him as the most suitable husbandfor the queen. This bond concluded with this sufficiently strangedeclaration:

"After all, the queen cannot do otherwise, since the earl has carriedher off and has lain with her. "

Yet two circumstances were still opposed to this marriage: the first, that Bothwell had already been married three times, and that his threewives were living; the second, that having carried off the queen, thisviolence might cause to be regarded as null the alliance which sheshould contract with him: the first of these objections was attended to, to begin with, as the one most difficult to solve. 

Bothwell's two first wives were of obscure birth, consequently hescorned to disquiet himself about them; but it was not so with thethird, a daughter of that Earl of Huntly who been trampled beneaththe horses' feet, and a sister of Gordon, who had been decapitated. Fortunately for Bothwell, his past behaviour made his wife long fora divorce with an eagerness as great as his own. There was not muchdifficulty, then, in persuading her to bring a charge of adulteryagainst her husband. Bothwell confessed that he had had criminalintercourse with a relative of his wife, and the Archbishop of St. Andrews, the same who had taken up his abode in that solitary house atKirk of Field to be present at Darnley's death, pronounced the marriagenull. The case was begun, pushed on, and decided in ten days. 

As to the second obstacle, that of the violence used to the queen, Maryundertook to remove it herself; for, being brought before the court, she declared that not only did she pardon Bothwell for his conduct asregarded her, but further that, knowing him to be a good and faithfulsubject, she intended raising him immediately to new honours. In fact, some days afterwards she created him Duke of Orkney, and on the 15th ofthe same month--that is to say, scarcely four months after the death ofDarnley--with levity that resembled madness, Mary, who had petitionedfor a dispensation to wed a Catholic prince, her cousin in the thirddegree, married Bothwell, a Protestant upstart, who, his divorcenotwithstanding, was still bigamous, and who thus found himself in theposition of having four wives living, including the queen. 

The wedding was dismal, as became a festival under such outrageousauspices. Morton, Maitland, and some base flatterers of Bothwell alonewere present at it. The French ambassador, although he was a creature ofthe House of Guise, to which the queen belonged, refused to attend it. 

Mary's delusion was short-lived: scarcely was she in Bothwell's powerthan she saw what a master she had given herself. Gross, unfeeling, andviolent, he seemed chosen by Providence to avenge the faults of whichhe had been the instigator or the accomplice. Soon his fits of passionreached such a point, that one day, no longer able to endure them, Maryseized a dagger from Erskine, who was present with Melville at oneof these scenes, and would have struck herself, saying that she wouldrather die than continue living unhappily as she did; yet, inexplicableas it seems, in spite of these miseries, renewed without ceasing, Mary, forgetting that she was wife and queen, tender and submissive as achild, was always the first to be reconciled with Bothwell. 

Nevertheless, these public scenes gave a pretext to the nobles, whoonly sought an opportunity for an outbreak. The Earl of Mar, the youngprince's tutor, Argyll, Athol, Glencairn, Lindley, Boyd, and even Mortonand Maitland themselves, those eternal accomplices of Bothwell, rose, they said, to avenge the death of the king, and to draw the son fromhands which had killed the father and which were keeping the mothercaptive. As to Murray, he had kept completely in the background duringall the last events; he was in the county of Fife when the king wasassassinated, and three days before the trial of Bothwell he hadasked and obtained from his sister permission to take a journey on theContinent. 

The insurrection took place in such a prompt and instantaneous manner, that the Confederate lords, whose plan was to surprise and seize bothMary and Bothwell, thought they would succeed at the first attempt. 

The king and queen were at table with Lord Borthwick, who wasentertaining them, when suddenly it was announced that a large body ofarmed men was surrounding the castle: Bothwell and Mary suspected thatthey were aimed at, and as they had no means of resistance, Bothwelldressed himself as a squire, Mary as a page, and both immediately takinghorse, escaped by one door just as the Confederates were coming in bythe other. The fugitives withdrew to Dunbar. 

There they called together all Bothwell's friends, and made them signa kind of treaty by which they undertook to defend the queen and herhusband. In the midst of all this, Murray arrived from France, andBothwell offered the document to him as to the others; but Murrayrefused to put his signature to it, saying that it was insulting him tothink he need be bound by a written agreement when it was a questionof defending his sister and his queen. This refusal having led to analtercation between him and Bothwell, Murray, true to his system ofneutrality, withdrew into his earldom, and let affairs follow withouthim the fatal decline they had taken. 

In the meantime the Confederates, after having failed at Borthwick, not feeling strong enough to attack Bothwell at Dunbar, marched uponEdinburgh, where they had an understanding with a man of whom Bothwellthought himself sure. This man was James Balfour, governor of thecitadel, the same who had presided over the preparation of the minewhich had blown up Darnley, and whom Bothwell had, met on entering thegarden at Kirk of Field. Not only did Balfour deliver Edinburgh Castleinto the hands of the Confederates, but he also gave them a littlesilver coffer of which the cipher, an "F" crowned, showed that ithad belonged to Francis II; and in fact it was a gift from her firsthusband, which the queen had presented to Bothwell. Balfour statedthat this coffer contained precious papers, which in the presentcircumstances might be of great use to Mary's enemies. The Confederatelords opened it, and found inside the three genuine or spurious lettersthat we have quoted, the marriage contract of Mary and Bothwell, andtwelve poems in the queen's handwriting. As Balfour had said, thereinlay, for her enemies, a rich and precious find, which was worth morethan a victory; for a victory would yield them only the queen's life, while Balfour's treachery yielded them her honour. 

CHAPTER IV

Meanwhile Bothwell had levied some troops, and thought himself in aposition to hold the country: accordingly, he set out with his army, without even waiting for the Hamiltons, who were assembling theirvassals, and June 15th, 1567, the two opposed forces were face to face. Mary, who desired to try to avoid bloodshed, immediately sent the Frenchambassador to the Confederate lords to exhort them to lay aside theirarms; but they replied "that the queen deceived herself in takingthem for rebels; that they were marching not against her, but againstBothwell. " Then the king's friends did what they could to break off thenegotiations and give battle: it was already too late; the soldiers knewthat they were defending the cause of one man, and that they were goingto fight for a woman's caprice, and not for the good of the country:they cried aloud, then, that "since Bothwell alone was aimed at, it wasfor Bothwell to defend his cause". And he, vain and blustering as usual, gave out that he was ready to prove his innocence in person againstwhomsoever would dare to maintain that he was guilty. Immediatelyeveryone with any claim to nobility in the rival camp accepted thechallenge; and as the honour was given to the bravest, Kirkcaldy ofGrange, Murray of Tullibardine, and Lord Lindsay of Byres defied himsuccessively. But, be it that courage failed him, be it that in themoment of danger he did not himself believe in the justice of his cause, he, to escape the combat, sought such strange pretexts that the queenherself was ashamed; and his most devoted friends murmured. 

Then Mary, perceiving the fatal humour of men's minds, decided not torun the risk of a battle. She sent a herald to Kirkcaldy of Grange, whowas commanding an outpost, and as he was advancing without distrust toconverse with the queen, Bothwell, enraged at his own cowardice, ordereda soldier to fire upon him; but this time Mary herself interposed, forbidding him under pain of death to offer the least violence. In themeanwhile, as the imprudent order given by Bothwell spread through thearmy, such murmurs burst forth that he clearly saw that his cause wasfor ever lost. 

That is what the queen thought also; for the result of her conferencewith Lord Kirkcaldy was that she should abandon Bothwell's cause, andpass over into the camp of the Confederates, on condition thatthey would lay down their arms before her and bring her as queen toEdinburgh. Kirkcaldy left her to take these conditions to the nobles, and promised to return next day with a satisfactory answer. But at themoment of leaving Bothwell, Mary was seized again with that fatal lovefor him that she was never able to surmount, and felt herself overcomewith such weakness, that, weeping bitterly, and before everyone, she wanted Kirkcaldy to be told that she broke off all negotiations;however, as Bothwell had understood that he was no longer safe in camp, it was he who insisted that things should remain as they were; and, leaving Mary in tears, he mounted, and setting off at full speed, he didnot stop till he reached Dunbar. 

Next day, at the time appointed, the arrival of Lord Kirkcaldy of Grangewas announced by the trumpeters preceding him. Mary mounted directlyand went to meet him; them, as he alighted to greet her, "My lord;" saidshe, "I surrender to you, on the conditions that you have proposed tome on the part of the nobles, and here is my hand as a sign of entireconfidence". Kirkcaldy then knelt down, kissed, the queen's handrespectfully; and, rising, he took her horse by the bridle and led ittowards the Confederates' camp. 

Everyone of any rank in the army received her with such marks of respectas entirely to satisfy her; but it was not so at all with the soldiersand common people. Hardly had the queen reached the second line, formedby them, than great murmurs arose, and several voices cried, "To thestake, the adulteress! To the stake, the parricide!" However, Mary borethese outrages stoically enough but a more terrible trial yet was instore for her. Suddenly she saw rise before her a banner, on whichwas depicted on one side the king dead and stretched out in the fatalgarden, and on the other the young prince kneeling, his hands joinedand his eyes raised to heaven, with this inscription, "O Lord! judge andrevenge my cause!" Mary reined in her horse abruptly at this sight, andwanted to turn back; but she had scarcely moved a few paces when theaccusing banner again blocked her passage. Wherever she went, she metthis dreadful apparition. For two hours she had incessantly under hereyes the king's corpse asking vengeance, and the young prince her sonpraying God to punish the murderers. At last she could endure it nolonger, and, crying out, she threw herself back, having completely lostconsciousness, and would have fallen, if someone had not caught hold ofher. In the evening she entered Edinburgh, always preceded by the cruelbanner, and she already had rather the air of a prisoner than of aqueen; for, not having had a moment during the day to attend to hertoilet, her hair was falling in disorder about her shoulders, her facewas pale and showed traces of tears; and finally, her clothes werecovered with dust and mud. As she proceeded through the town, thehootings of the people and the curses of the crowd followed her. Atlast, half dead with fatigue, worn out with grief, bowed down withshame, she reached the house of the Lord Provost; but scarcely hadshe got there when the entire population of Edinburgh crowded into thesquare, with cries that from time to time assumed a tone of terrifyingmenace. Several times, then, Mary wished to go to the window, hopingthat the sight of her, of which she had so often proved the influence, would disarm this multitude; but each time she saw this banner unfurlingitself like a bloody curtain between herself and the people--a terriblerendering of their feelings. 

However, all this hatred was meant still more for Bothwell than forher: they were pursuing Bothwell in Darnley's widow. The curses werefor Bothwell: Bothwell was the adulterer, Bothwell was the murderer, Bothwell was the coward; while Mary was the weak, fascinated woman, who, that same evening, gave afresh proof of her folly. 

In fact, directly the falling night had scattered the crowd and a littlequiet was regained, Mary, ceasing to be uneasy on her own account, turned immediately to Bothwell, whom she had been obliged to abandon, and who was now proscribed and fleeing; while she, as she believed, was about to reassume her title and station of queen. With that eternalconfidence of the woman in her own love, by which she invariablymeasures the love of another, she thought that Bothwell's greatestdistress was to have lost, not wealth and power, but to have lostherself. So she wrote him a long letter, in which, forgetful of herself, she promised him with the most tender expressions of love never todesert him, and to recall him to her directly the breaking up of theConfederate lords should give her power to do so; then, this letterwritten, she called a soldier, gave him a purse of gold, and chargedhim to take this letter to Dunbar, where Bothwell ought to be, and if hewere already gone, to follow him until he came up with him. 

Then she went to bed and slept more calmly; for, unhappy as she was, shebelieved she had just sweetened misfortunes still greater than hers. 

Next day the queen was awakened by the step of an armed man who enteredher room. Both astonished and frightened at this neglect of propriety, which could augur nothing good, Mary sat up in bed, and parting thecurtains, saw standing before her Lord Lindsay of Byres: she knew he wasone of her oldest friends, so she asked him in a voice which she vainlytried to make confident, what he wanted of her at such a time. 

"Do you know this writing, madam?" Lord Lindsay asked in a rough voice, presenting to the queen the letter she had written to Bothwell at night, which the soldier had carried to the Confederate lords, instead oftaking to its address. 

"Yes, doubtless, my lord, " the queen answered; "but am I already aprisoner, then, that my correspondence is intercepted? or is it nolonger allowed to a wife to write to her husband?"

"When the husband is a traitor, " replied Lindsay, "no, madam, it is nolonger allowed to a wife to write to her husband--at least, however, ifthis wife have a part in his treason; which seems to me, besides, quiteproved by the promise you make to this wretch to recall him to you. "

"My lord, " cried Mary, interrupting Lindsay, "do you forget that you arespeaking to your queen. "

"There was a time, madam, " Lindsay replied, "when I should have spokento you in a more gentle voice, and bending the knee, although it isnot in the nature of us old Scotch to model ourselves on your Frenchcourtiers; but for some time, thanks to your changing loves, you havekept us so often in the field, in harness, that our voices are hoarsefrom the cold night air, and our stiff knees can no longer bend in ourarmour: you must then take me just as I am, madam; since to-day, forthe welfare of Scotland, you are no longer at liberty to choose yourfavourites. "

Mary grew frightfully pale at this want of respect, to which she was notyet accustomed; but quickly containing her anger, as far as possible--

"But still, my lord, " said she, "however disposed I may be to takeyou as you are, I must at least know by what right you come here. Thatletter which you are holding in your hand would lead me to think it isas a spy, if the ease with which you enter my room without being askeddid not make me believe it is as a gaoler. Have the goodness, then, toinform me by which of these two names I must call you. "

"Neither by one nor the other, madam; for I am simply yourfellow-traveller, chef of the escort which is to take you to LochlevenCastle, your future residence. And yet, scarcely have I arrived therethan I shall be obliged to leave you to go and assist the Confederatelords choose a regent for the kingdom. "

"So, " said Mary, "it was as prisoner and not as queen that I surrenderedto Lord Kirkcaldy. It seems to me that things were agreed uponotherwise; but I am glad to see how much time Scotch noblemen need tobetray their sworn undertakings". 

"Your Grace forgets that these engagements were made on one condition, "Lindsay answered. 

"On which?" Mary asked. 

"That you should separate for ever from your husband's murderer;and there is the proof, " he added, showing the letter, "that you hadforgotten your promise before we thought of revoking ours. "

"And at what o'clock is my departure fixed?" said Mary, whom thisdiscussion was beginning to fatigue. 

"At eleven o'clock, madam. "

"It is well, my lord; as I have no desire to make your lordship wait, you will have the goodness, in withdrawing, to send me someone to helpme dress, unless I am reduced to wait upon myself. "

And, in pronouncing these words, Mary made a gesture so imperious, thatwhatever may have been Lindsay's wish to reply, he bowed and went out. Behind him entered Mary Seyton. 

CHAPTER V

At the time appointed the queen was ready: she had suffered so much atEdinburgh that she left it without any regret. Besides, whether to spareher the humiliations of the day before, or to conceal her departure fromany partisans who might remain to her, a litter had been made ready. Mary got into it without any resistance, and after two hours' journeyshe reached Duddington; there a little vessel was waiting for her, whichset sail directly she was on board, and next day at dawn she disembarkedon the other side of the Firth of Forth in the county of Fife. 

Mary halted at Rosythe Castle only just long enough to breakfast, andimmediately recommenced her journey; for Lord Lindsay had declared thathe wished to reach his destination that same evening. Indeed, as the sunwas setting, Mary perceived gilded with his last rays the high towers ofLochleven Castle, situated on an islet in the midst of the lake of thesame name. 

No doubt the royal prisoner was already expected at Lochleven Castle, for, on reaching the lake side, Lord Lindsay's equerry unfurled hisbanner, which till then had remained in its case, and waved it fromright to left, while his master blew a little hunting bugle which hewore hanging from his neck. A boat immediately put off from the islandand came towards the arrivals, set in motion by four vigorous oarsmen, who had soon propelled it across the space which separated it from thebank. Mary silently got into it, and sat down at the stern, while LordLindsay and his equerry stood up before her; and as her guide did notseem any more inclined to speak than she was herself to respond, she hadplenty of time to examine her future dwelling. 

The castle, or rather the fortress of Lochleven, already somewhat gloomyin its situation and architecture, borrowed fresh mournfulness stillfrom the hour at which it appeared to the queen's gaze. It was, so faras she could judge amid the mists rising from the lake, one of thosemassive structures of the twelfth century which seem, so fast shut upare they, the stone armour of a giant. As she drew near, Mary beganto make out the contours of two great round towers, which flanked thecorners and gave it the severe character of a state prison. A clump ofancient trees enclosed by a high wall, or rather by a rampart, roseat its north front, and seemed vegetation in stone, and completed thegeneral effect of this gloomy abode, while, on the contrary, the eyewandering from it and passing from islands to islands, lost itself inthe west, in the north, and in the south, in the vast plain of Kinross, or stopped southwards at the jagged summits of Ben Lomond, whosefarthest slopes died down on the shores of the lake. 

Three persons awaited Mary at the castle door: Lady Douglas, WilliamDouglas her son, and a child of twelve who was called Little Douglas, and who was neither a son nor a brother of the inhabitants of thecastle, but merely a distant relative. As one can imagine, there werefew compliments between Mary and her hosts; and the queen, conducted toher apartment, which was on the first floor, and of which the windowsoverlooked the lake, was soon left with Mary Seyton, the only one of thefour Marys who had been allowed to accompany her. 

However, rapid as the interview had been, and short and measured thewords exchanged between the prisoner and her gaolers, Mary had had time, together with what she knew of them beforehand, to construct for herselfa fairly accurate idea of the new personages who had just mingled in herhistory. 

Lady Lochleven, wife of Lord William Douglas, of whom we have alreadysaid a few words at the beginning of this history, was a woman of fromfifty-five to sixty years of age, who had been handsome enough in heryouth to fix upon herself the glances of King James V, and who had had ason by him, who was this same Murray whom we have already seenfiguring so often in Mary's history, and who, although his birth wasillegitimate, had always been treated as a brother by the queen. 

Lady Lochleven had had a momentary hope, so great was the king's lovefor her, of becoming his wife, which upon the whole was possible, thefamily of Mar, from which she was descended, being the equal of the mostancient and the noblest families in Scotland. But, unluckily, perhapsslanderously, certain talk which was circulating among the youngnoblemen of the time came to James's ears; it was said that togetherwith her royal lover the beautiful favourite had another, whom she hadchosen, no doubt from curiosity, from the very lowest class. It wasadded that this Porterfeld, or Porterfield, was the real father of thechild who had already received the name of James Stuart, and whom theking was educating as his son at the monastery of St. Andrews. Theserumours, well founded or not, had therefore stopped James V at themoment when, in gratitude to her who had given him a son, he was on thepoint of raising her to the rank of queen; so that, instead of marryingher himself, he had invited her to choose among the nobles at court; andas she was very handsome, and the king's favour went with the marriage, this choice, which fell on Lord William Douglas of Lochleven, did notmeet with any resistance on his part. However, in spite of this directprotection, that James V preserved for her all his life, Lady Douglascould never forget that she had fingered higher fortune; moreover, shehad a hatred for the one who, according to herself, had usurped herplace, and poor Mary had naturally inherited the profound animosity thatLady Douglas bore to her mother, which had already come to light in thefew words that the two women had exchanged. Besides, in ageing, whetherfrom repentance for her errors or from hypocrisy, Lady Douglas hadbecome a prude and a puritan; so that at this time she united with thenatural acrimony of her character all the stiffness of the new religionshe had adopted. 

William Douglas, who was the eldest son of Lord Lochleven, on hismother's side half-brother of Murray, was a man of from thirty-five tothirty-six years of age, athletic, with hard and strongly pronouncedfeatures, red-haired like all the younger branch, and who had inheritedthat paternal hatred that for a century the Douglases cherished againstthe Stuarts, and which was shown by so many plots, rebellions, andassassinations. According as fortune had favoured or deserted Murray, William Douglas had seen the rays of the fraternal star draw near oraway from him; he had then felt that he was living in another's life, and was devoted, body and soul, to him who was his cause of greatness orof abasement. Mary's fall, which must necessarily raise Murray, was thusa source of joy for him, and the Confederate lords could not have chosenbetter than in confiding the safe-keeping of their prisoner to theinstinctive spite of Lady Douglas and to the intelligent hatred of herson. 

As to Little Douglas, he was, as we have said, a child of twelve, forsome months an orphan, whom the Lochlevens had taken charge of, and whomthey made buy the bread they gave him by all sorts of harshness. Theresult was that the child, proud and spiteful as a Douglas, and knowing, although his fortune was inferior, that his birth was equal to his proudrelatives, had little by little changed his early gratitude into lastingand profound hatred: for one used to say that among the Douglases therewas an age for loving, but that there was none for hating. It resultsthat, feeling his weakness and isolation, the child was self-containedwith strength beyond his years, and, humble and submissive inappearance, only awaited the moment when, a grown-up young man, he couldleave Lochleven, and perhaps avenge himself for the proud protection ofthose who dwelt there. But the feelings that we have just expressed didnot extend to all the members of the family: as much as from the bottomof his heart the little Douglas detested William and his mother, so muchhe loved George, the second of Lady Lochleven's sons, of whom we havenot yet spoken, because, being away from the castle when the queenarrived, we have not yet found an opportunity to present him to ourreaders. 

George, who at this time might have been about twenty-five or twenty-sixyears old, was the second son of Lord Lochleven; but by a singularchance, that his mother's adventurous youth had caused Sir William tointerpret amiss, this second son had none of the characteristic featuresof the Douglases' full cheeks, high colour, large ears, and red hair. The result was that poor George, who, on the contrary, had been givenby nature pale cheeks, dark blue eyes, and black hair, had been sincecoming into the world an object of indifference to his father and ofdislike to his elder brother. As to his mother, whether she were indeedin good faith surprised like Lord Douglas at this difference in race, whether she knew the cause and inwardly reproached herself, George hadnever been, ostensibly at least, the object of a very lively maternalaffection; so the young man, followed from his childhood by a fatalitythat he could not explain, had sprung up like a wild shrub, full of sapand strength, but uncultivated and solitary. Besides, from the time whenhe was fifteen, one was accustomed to his motiveless absences, which theindifference that everyone bore him made moreover perfectly explicable;from time to time, however, he was seen to reappear at the castle, likethose migratory birds which always return to the same place but onlystay a moment, then take their way again without one's knowing towardswhat spot in the world they are directing their flight. 

An instinct of misfortune in common had drawn Little Douglas to George. George, seeing the child ill-treated by everyone, had conceived anaffection for him, and Little Douglas, feeling himself loved amid theatmosphere of indifference around him, turned with open arms and heartto George: it resulted from this mutual liking that one day, when thechild had committed I do not know what fault, and that William Douglasraised the whip he beat his dogs with to strike him, that George, whowas sitting on a stone, sad and thoughtful, had immediately sprung up, snatched the whip from his brother's hands and had thrown it far fromhim. At this insult William had drawn his sword, and George his, so thatthese two brothers, who had hated one another for twenty years like twoenemies, were going to cut one another's throats, when Little Douglas, who had picked up the whip, coming back and kneeling before William, offered him the ignominious weapon, saying, "Strike, cousin; I have deserved it. "

This behaviour of the child had caused some minutes' reflection to thetwo young men, who, terrified at the crime they were about to commit, had returned their swords to their scabbards and had each gone away insilence. Since this incident the friendship of George and LittleDouglas had acquired new strength, and on the child's side it had becomeveneration. 

We dwell upon all these details somewhat at length, perhaps, but nodoubt our readers will pardon us when they see the use to be made ofthem. 

This is the family, less George, who, as we have said, was absent atthe time of her arrival, into the midst of which the queen had fallen, passing in a moment from the summit of power to the position of aprisoner; for from the day following her arrival Mary saw that it wasby such a title she was an inmate of Lochleven Castle. In fact, LadyDouglas presented herself before her as soon as it was morning, andwith an embarrassment and dislike ill disguised beneath an appearanceof respectful indifference, invited Mary to follow her and take stock ofthe several parts of the fortress which had been chosen beforehand forher private use. She then made her go through three rooms, of which onewas to serve as her bedroom, the second as sitting-room, and the thirdas ante-chamber; afterwards, leading the way down a spiral staircase, which looked into the great hall of the castle, its only outlet, she hadcrossed this hall, and had taken Mary into the garden whose trees thequeen had seen topping the high walls on her arrival: it was a littlesquare of ground, forming a flower-bed in the midst of which was anartificial fountain. It was entered by a very low door, repeated in theopposite wall; this second door looked on to the lake and, like all thecastle doors, whose keys, however, never left the belt or the pillow ofWilliam Douglas, it was guarded night and day by a sentinel. This wasnow the whole domain of her who had possessed the palaces, the plains, and the mountains of an entire kingdom. 

Mary, on returning to her room, found breakfast ready, and WilliamDouglas standing near the table he was going to fulfil about the queenthe duties of carver and taster. 

In spite of their hatred for Mary, the Douglases would have consideredit an eternal blemish on their honour if any accident should havebefallen the queen while she was dwelling in their castle; and it wasin order that the queen herself should not entertain any fear in thisrespect that William Douglas, in his quality of lord of the manor, hadnot only desired to carve before the queen, but even to taste first inher presence, all the dishes served to her, as well as the water and theseveral wines to be brought her. This precaution saddened Mary morethan it reassured her; for she understood that, while she stayed in thecastle, this ceremony would prevent any intimacy at table. However, itproceeded from too noble an intention for her to impute it as a crime toher hosts: she resigned herself, then, to this company, insupportable asit was to her; only, from that day forward, she so cut short her mealsthat all the time she was at Lochleven her longest dinners barely lastedmore than a quarter of an hour. 

Two days after her arrival, Mary, on sitting down to table forbreakfast, found on her plate a letter addressed to her which had beenput there by William Douglas. Mary recognised Murray's handwriting, andher first feeling was one of joy; for if a ray of hope remained to her, it came from her brother, to whom she had always been perfectly kind, whom from Prior of St. Andrew's she had made an earl in bestowing on himthe splendid estates which formed part of the old earldom of Murray, and to whom, which was of more importance, she had since pardoned, orpretended to pardon, the part he had taken in Rizzio's assassination. 

Her astonishment was great, then, when, having opened the letter, shefound in it bitter reproaches for her conduct, an exhortation to dopenance, and an assurance several times repeated that she should neverleave her prison. He ended his letter in announcing to her that, inspite of his distaste for public affairs, he had been obliged to acceptthe regency, which he had done less for his country than for his sister, seeing that it was the sole means he had of standing in the way of theignominious trial to which the nobles wished to bring her, as author, orat least as chief accomplice, of Darnley's death. This imprisonment wasthen clearly a great good fortune for her, and she ought to thankHeaven for it, as an alleviation of the fate awaiting her if he had notinterceded for her. 

This letter was a lightning stroke for Mary: only, as she did not wishto give her enemies the delight of seeing her suffer, she contained hergrief, and, turning to William Douglas--

"My lord, " said she, "this letter contains news that you doubtless knowalready, for although we are not children by the same mother, he whowrites to me is related to us in the same degree, and will not havedesired to write to his sister without writing to his brother at thesame time; besides, as a good son, he will have desired to acquaint hismother with the unlooked-for greatness that has befallen him. "

"Yes, madam, " replied William, "we know since yesterday that, for thewelfare of Scotland, my brother has been named regent; and as he is ason as respectful to his mother as he is devoted to his country, we hopethat he will repair the evil that for five years favourites of everysort and kind have done to both. "

"It is like a good son, and at the same time like a courteous host, togo back no farther into the history of Scotland, " replied Mary Stuart, "and not to make the daughter blush for the father's errors; for I haveheard say that the evil which your lordship laments was prior to thetime to which you assign it, and that King James V. Also had formerlyfavourites, both male and female. It is true that they add that the onesas ill rewarded his friendship as the others his love. In this, ifyou are ignorant of it, my lord, you can be instructed, if he is stillliving, by a certain. Porterfeld or Porterfield, I don't know which, understanding these names of the lower classes too ill to retain andpronounce them, but about which, in my stead, your noble mother couldgive you information. "

With these words, Mary Stuart rose, and, leaving William Douglas crimsonwith rage, she returned into her bedroom, and bolted the door behindher. 

All that day Mary did not come down, remaining at her window, from whichshe at least enjoyed a splendid view over the plains and village ofKinross; but this vast extent only contracted her heart the more, when, bringing her gaze back from the horizon to the castle, she beheld itswalls surrounded on all sides by the deep waters of the lake, on whosewide surface a single boat, where Little Douglas was fishing, wasrocking like a speck. For some moments Mary's eyes mechanically restedon this child, whom she had already seen upon her arrival, when suddenlya horn sounded from the Kinross side. At the same moment Little Douglasthrew away his line, and began to row towards the shore whence thesignal had come with skill and strength beyond his years. Mary, whohad let her gaze rest on him absently, continued to follow him with hereyes, and saw him make for a spot on the shore so distant that theboat seemed to her at length but an imperceptible speck; but soon itreappeared, growing larger as it approached, and Mary could then observethat it was bringing back to the castle a new passenger, who, havingin his turn taken the oars, made the little skiff fly over the tranquilwater of the lake, where it left a furrow gleaming in the last rays ofthe sun. Very soon, flying on with the swiftness of a bird, it was nearenough for Mary to see that the skilful and vigorous oarsman was a youngman from twenty-five to twenty-six years of age, with long black hair, clad in a close coat of green cloth, and wearing a Highlander's cap, adorned with an eagle's feather; then, as with his back turned to thewindow he drew nearer, Little Douglas, who was leaning on hisshoulder, said a few words which made him turn round towards the queen:immediately Mary, with an instinctive movement rather than with thedread of being an object of idle curiosity, drew back, but not soquickly, however, but that she had been able to see the handsomepale face of the unknown, who, when she returned to the window, haddisappeared behind one of the corners of the castle. 

Everything is a cause of conjecture to a prisoner: it seemed to Marythat this young man's face was not unknown to her, and that he had seenher already; but though great the care with which she questioned hermemory, she could not recall any distinct remembrance, so much so thatthe queen ended in thinking it the play of her imagination, or that somevague and distinct resemblance had deceived her. 

However, in spite of Mary, this idea had taken an important place in hermind: she incessantly saw this little boat skimming the water, and theyoung man and the child who were in it drawing near her, as if to bringher help. It followed that, although there had been nothing real in allthese captive's dreams, she slept that night a calmer sleep than she hadyet done since she had been in Lochleven Castle. 

Next day, on rising, Mary ran to her window: the weather was fine, andeverything seemed to smile on her, the water, the heavens and the earth. But, without being able to account for the restraining motive, she didnot want to go down into the ga den before breakfast. When the dooropened, 'she turned quickly round: it was, as on the day before, WilliamDouglas, who came to fulfil his duty as taster. 

The breakfast was a short and silent one; then, as soon as Douglas hadwithdrawn, Mary descended in her turn: in crossing the courtyard shesaw two horses ready saddled, which pointed to the near departure of amaster and a squire. Was it the young man with the black hair alreadysetting out again? This is what Mary did not dare or did not wish toask. She consequently went her way, and entered the garden: at the firstglance she took it in in its full extent; it was deserted. 

Mary walked there a moment; then, soon tiring of the promenade, shewent up again to her room: in passing back through the courtyard she hadnoticed that the horses were no longer there. Directly she returned intoher apartment, she went then to the window to see if she could discoveranything upon the lake to guide her in her conjectures: a boat wasin fact receding, and in this boat were the two horses and the twohorsemen; one was William Douglas, the other a simple squire from thehouse. 

Mary continued watching the boat until it had touched the shore. Arrivedthere, the two horsemen got out, disembarked their horses, and went awayat full gallop, taking the same road by which the queen had come; sothat, as the horses were prepared for a long journey, Mary thought thatWilliam Douglas was going to Edinburgh. As to the boat, scarcely had itlanded its two passengers on the opposite shore than it returned towardsthe castle. 

At that moment Mary Seyton announced to the queen that Lady Douglas wasasking permission to visit her. 

It was the second time, after long hatred on Lady Douglas's part andcontemptuous indifference on the queen's, that the two women were faceto face; therefore the queen, with that instinctive impulse of coquetrywhich urges women, in whatever situation they find themselves, to desireto be beautiful, above all for women, made a sign to Mary Seyton, and, going to a little mirror fastened to the wall in a heavy Gothic frame, she arranged her curls, and readjusted the lace of her collar; then;having seated herself in the pose most favourable to her, in a greatarm-chair, the only one in her sitting-room, she said smilingly toMary Seyton that she might admit Lady Douglas, who was immediatelyintroduced. 

Mary's expectation was not disappointed: Lady Douglas, in spite of herhatred for James Vs daughter, and mistress of herself as she thought sheas, could not prevent herself from showing by a movement of surprise theimpression that this marvelous beauty was making on her: she thought sheshould find Mary crushed by her unhappiness, pallid from her fatigues, humbled by captivity, and she saw hers calm, lovely, and haughty asusual. Mary perceived the effect that she was producing, and addressingherself with an ironical smile partly to Mary Seyton, who was leaningon the back of her chair, and partly to her who was paying her thisunforeseen visit, "We are fortunate to-day, " said she, "for we are going as it seems toenjoy the society of our good hostess, whom we thank besides for havingkindly maintained with us the empty ceremony of announcing herself--aceremony with which, having the keys of our apartment, she could havedispensed. "

"If my presence is inconvenient to your grace, " replied Lady Lochleven, "I am all the more sorry for it, as circumstances will oblige me toimpose it twice daily, at least during the absence of my son, who issummoned to Edinburgh by the regent; this is of what I came to informyour grace, not with the empty ceremonial of the court, but with theconsideration which Lady Lochleven owes to everyone who has receivedhospitality in her castle. "

"Our good hostess mistakes our intention, " Mary answered, with affectedgood-nature; "and the regent himself can bear witness to the pleasure wehave always had in bringing nearer to us the persons who can recallto us, even indirectly, our well-beloved father, James V. It willbe therefore unjustly that Lady Douglas will interpret in a mannerdisagreeable to herself our surprise at seeing her; and the hospitalitythat she offers us so obligingly does not promise us, in spite of hergoodwill, sufficient distractions that we should deprive ourselves ofthose that her visits cannot fail to procure us. "

"Unfortunately, madam, " replied Lady Lochleven, whom Mary was keepingstanding before her, "whatever pleasure I myself derive from thesevisits, I shall be obliged to deprive myself of, except at the timesI have mentioned. I am now too old to bear fatigue, and I have, alwaysbeen too proud to endure sarcasms. "

"Really, Seyton, " cried Mary, seeming to recollect herself, "we hadnot dreamed that Lady Lochleven, having won her right to a stool atthe court of the king my father, would have need to preserve it in theprison of the queen his daughter. Bring forward a seat, Seyton, that webe not deprived so soon, and by a failure of memory on our part, of ourgracious hostess's company; or even, " went on Mary, rising and pointingout her own seat to Lady Lochleven, who was making a motion to withdraw, "if a stool does not suit you, my lady, take this easy-chair: you willnot be the first member of your family to sit in my place. "

At this last allusion, which recalled to her Murray's usurpation, LadyLochleven was no doubt about to make some exceedingly bitter reply, when the young man with the dark hair appeared on the threshold, withoutbeing announced, and, advancing towards Lady Lochleven, without salutingMary--

"Madam, " said he, bowing to the former, "the boat which took my brotherhas just returned, and one of the men in it is charged with a pressingcharge that Lord William forgot to make to you himself. "

Then, saluting the old lady with the same respect, he immediately wentout of the room, without even glancing at the queen, who, hurt by thisimpertinence, turned round to Mary Seyton, and, with her usual calm--

"What have they told us, Seyton, of injurious rumours which were spreadabout our worthy hostess apropos of a child with a pale face and darkhair? If this child, as I have every reason to believe, has become theyoung man who just went out of the room, I am ready to affirm to all theincredulous that he is a true Douglas, if not for courage, of which wecannot judge, then for insolence, of which he has just given us proofs. Let us return, darling, " continued the queen, leaning on Mary Seyton'sarm; "for our good hostess, out of courtesy, might think herself obligedto keep us company longer, while we know that she is impatiently awaitedelsewhere. "

With these words, Mary went into her bedroom; while the old lady, stillquite stunned with the shower of sarcasms that the queen had rained onher, withdrew, murmuring, "Yes, yes, he is a Douglas, and with God'shelp he will prove it, I hope. "

The queen had had strength as long as she was sustained by her enemy'spresence, but scarcely was she alone than she sank into a chair, and nolonger having any witness of her weakness than Mary Seyton, burst intotears. Indeed, she had just been cruelly wounded: till then no man hadcome near her who had not paid homage either to the majesty of her rankor to the beauty of her countenance. But precisely he, on whom she hadreckoned, without knowing why, with instinctive hopes, insulted her atone and the same time in her double pride of queen and woman: thus sheremained shut up till evening. 

At dinner-time, just as Lady Lochleven had informed Mary, she ascendedto the queen's apartment, in her dress of honour, and preceding fourservants who were carrying the several dishes composing the prisoner'srepast, and who, in their turn, were followed by the old castle steward, having, as on days of great ceremony, his gold chain round his neckand his ivory stick in his hand. The servants' placed the dishes on thetable, and waited in silence for the moment when it should please thequeen to come out of her room; but at this moment the door opened, andin place of the queen Mary Seyton appeared. 

"Madam, " said she on entering, "her grace was indisposed during the day, and will take nothing this evening; it will be useless, then, for you towait longer. "

"Permit me to hope, " replied Lady Lochleven, "that she will change herdecision; in any case, see me perform my office. "

At these words, a servant handed Lady Lochleven bread and salt on asilver salver, while the old steward, who, in the absence of WilliamDouglas, fulfilled the duties of carver, served to her on a plate of thesame metal a morsel from each of the dishes that had been brought; then, this transaction ended. 

"So the queen will not appear to-day?" Lady Lochleven inquired. 

"It is her Majesty's resolve, " replied Mary Seyton. 

"Our presence is then needless, " said the old lady; "but in any case thetable is served, and if her grace should have need of anything else, shewould have but to name it. "

With these words, Lady Lochleven, with the same stiffness and the samedignity with which she had come, withdrew, followed by her four servantsand her steward. 

As Lady Lochleven had foreseen, the queen, yielding to the entreaties ofMary Seyton, came out of her room at last, towards eight o'clock in theevening, sat down to table, and, served by the only maid of honour lefther, ate a little; then, getting up, she went to the window. 

It was one of those magnificent summer evenings on which the whole ofnature seems making holiday: the sky was studded with stars, which werereflected in the lake, and in their midst, like a more fiery star, theflame of the chafing-dish shone, burning at the stern of a little boat:the queen, by the gleam of the light it shed, perceived George Douglasand Little Douglas, who were fishing. However great her wish to profitby this fine evening to breathe the pure night air, the sight of thisyoung man who had so grossly insulted her this very day made such a keenimpression on her that she shut her window directly, and, retiring intoher room, went to bed, and made her companion in captivity read severalprayers aloud; then, not being able to sleep, so greatly was sheagitated, she rose, and throwing on a mantle went again to the windowthe boat had disappeared. 

Mary spent part of the night gazing into the immensity of the heavens, or into the depths of the lake; but in spite of the nature of thethoughts agitating her, she none the less found very great physicalalleviation in contact with this pure air and in contemplation of thispeaceful and silent night: thus she awoke next day calmer and moreresigned. Unfortunately, the sight of Lady Lochleven, who presentedherself at breakfast-time, to fulfil her duties as taster, brought backher irritability. Perhaps, however, things would have gone on smoothlyif Lady Lochleven, instead of remaining standing by the sideboard, hadwithdrawn after having tasted the various dishes of the courses; butthis insisting on remaining throughout the meal, which was at bottom amark of respect, seemed to the queen unbearable tyranny. 

"Darling, " said she, speaking to Mary Seyton, "have you alreadyforgotten that our good hostess complained yesterday of the fatigue shefelt inn standing? Bring her, then, one of the two stools which composeour royal furniture, and take care that it is not the one with the legbroken". "If the furniture of Lochleven Castle is in such bad condition, madam, " the old lady replied, "it is the fault of the kings of Scotland:the poor Douglases for nearly a century have had such a small part oftheir sovereigns' favour, that they have not been able to keep upthe splendour of their ancestors to the level of that of privateindividuals, and because there was in Scotland a certain musician, as Iam informed, who spent their income for a whole year in one month. "

"Those who know how to take so well, my lady, " the queen answered, "have no need of being given to: it seems to me the Douglases have lostnothing by waiting, and there is not a younger son of this noble familywho might not aspire to the highest alliances; it is truly vexatiousthat our sister the queen of England has taken a vow of virginity; as isstated. "

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

"This, then, " returned Mary, "is the difference between them and theHuguenots; for they, not having the same respect for it, think it isallowed 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 apiece of meat brought her to taste; but the queen rose up with so greata calm and with such majesty, that either from involuntary respect orshame of her first impulse, she let fall the weapon she was holding, and not finding anything sufficiently strong in reply to express herfeelings, she signed to the servants to follow her, and went out of theapartment with all the dignity that anger permitted her to summon to heraid. 

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 witha better appetite than she had yet done since she was a prisoner, whileMary Seyton deplored in a low tone and with all possible respect thisfatal gift of repartee that Mary had received, and which, with herbeauty, was one of the causes of all her misfortunes; but the queen didnothing but laugh at all her observations, saying she was curious to seethe figure her good hostess would cut at dinnertime. 

After breakfast, the queen went down into the garden: her satisfiedpride had restored some of her cheerfulness, so much so that, seeing, while crossing the hall, a mandolin lying forgotten on a chair, she toldMary Seyton to take it, to see, she said, if she could recall her oldtalent. 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, aninstrument much resembling the mandolin. 

Mary Seyton obeyed. 

Arrived in the garden, the queen sat down in the deepest shade, andthere, having tuned her instrument, she at first drew from it lively andlight tones, which soon darkened little by little, at the same time thather countenance assumed a hue of deep melancholy. Mary Seyton looked ather with uneasiness, although for a long time she had been used to thesesudden changes in her mistress's humour, and she was about to askthe reason of this gloomy veil suddenly spread over her face, when, regulating her harmonies, Mary began to sing in a low voice, and as iffor herself alone, the following verses:--

 "Caverns, meadows, plains and mounts, Lands of tree and stone, Rivers, rivulets and founts, By which I stray alone, Bewailing as I go, With tears that overflow, Sing will I The miserable woe That bids me grieve and sigh. 

 Ay, but what is here to lend Ear to my lament? What is here can comprehend My dull discontent? Neither grass nor reed, Nor the ripples heed, Flowing by, While the stream with speed Hastens from my eye. 

 Vainly does my wounded heart Hope, alas, to heal; Seeking, to allay its smart, Things that cannot feel. Better should my pain Bitterly complain, Crying shrill, To thee who dost constrain My spirit to such ill. 

 Goddess, who shalt never die, List to what I say; Thou who makest me to lie Weak beneath thy sway, If my life must know Ending at thy blow, Cruellest! Own it perished so But at thy behest. 

 Lo! my face may all men see Slowly pine and fade, E'en as ice doth melt and flee Near a furnace laid. Yet the burning ray Wasting me away Passion's glow, Wakens no display Of pity for my woe. 

 Yet does every neighbour tree, Every rocky wall, This my sorrow know and see; So, in brief, doth all Nature know aright This my sorry plight; Thou alone Takest thy delight To hear me cry and moan. 

 But if it be thy will, To see tormented still Wretched me, Then let my woful ill Immortal be. "

This last verse died away as if the queen were exhausted, and at thesame time the mandolin slipped from her hands, and would have fallen tothe ground had not Mary Seyton thrown herself on her knees and preventedit. The young girl remained thus at her mistress's feet for some time, gazing at her silently, and as she saw that she was losing herself moreand more in gloomy reverie--

"Have those lines brought back to your Majesty some sad remembrance?"she asked hesitatingly. 

"Oh, yes, " answered the queen; "they reminded me of the unfortunatebeing who composed them. "

"And may I, without indiscretion, inquire of your grace who is theirauthor?"

"Alas! he was a noble, brave, and handsome young man, with a faithfulheart and a hot head, who would defend me to-day, if I had defended himthen; but his boldness seemed to me rashness, and his fault a crime. What was to be done? I did not love him. Poor Chatelard! I was verycruel to him. "

"But you did not prosecute him, it was your brother; you did not condemnhim, the judges did. "

"Yes, yes; I know that he too was Murray's victim, and that is no doubtthe reason that I am calling him to mind just now. But I was able topardon him, Mary, and I was inflexible; I let ascend the scaffold a manwhose only crime was in loving me too well; and now I am astonished andcomplain of being abandoned by everyone. Listen, darling, there is onething that terrifies me: it is, that when I search within myself I findthat I have not only deserved my fate, but even that God did not punishme severely enough. "

"What strange thoughts for your grace!" cried Mary; "and see where thoseunlucky lines which returned to your mind have led you, the very daywhen you were beginning to recover a little of your cheerfulness. "

"Alas!" replied the queen, shaking her head and uttering a deep sigh, "for six years very few days have passed that I have not repeated thoselines to myself, although it may be for the first time to-day that Irepeat them aloud. He was a Frenchman too, Mary: they have exiled fromme, taken or killed all who came to me from France. Do you remember thatvessel which was swallowed up before our eyes when we came out of Calaisharbour? I exclaimed then that it was a sad omen: you all wanted toreassure me. Well, who was right, now, you or I?"

The queen was in one of those fits of sadness for which tears arethe sole remedy; so Mary Seyton, perceiving that not only would everyconsolation be vain, but also unreasonable, far from continuing to reactagainst her mistress's melancholy, fully agreed with her: it followedthat the queen, who was suffocating, began to weep, and that her tearsbrought her comfort; then little by little she regained self-control, and this crisis passed as usual, leaving her firmer and more resolutethan ever, so that when she went up to her room again it was impossibleto read the slightest alteration in her countenance. 

The dinner-hour was approaching, and Mary, who in the morning waslooking forward impatiently to the enjoyment of her triumph over LadyLochleven, now saw her advance with uneasiness: the mere idea of againfacing this woman, whose pride one was always obliged to oppose withinsolence, was, after the moral fatigues of the day, a fresh weariness. So she decided not to appear for dinner, as on the day before: she wasall the more glad she had taken this resolution, that this time it wasnot Lady Lochleven who came to fulfil the duties enjoined on a member ofthe family to make the queen easy, but George Douglas, whom his motherin her displeasure at the morning scene sent to replace her. Thus, whenMary Seyton told the queen that she saw the young man with dark haircross the courtyard on his way to her, Mary still further congratulatedherself on her decision; for this young man's insolence had wounded hermore deeply than all his mother's haughty insults. The queen was not alittle astonished, then, when in a few minutes Mary Seyton returned andinformed her that George Douglas, having sent away the servants, desiredthe honour of speaking to her on a matter of importance. At first thequeen refused; but Mary Seyton told her that the young man's air andmanner this time were so different from what she had seen two daysbefore, that she thought her mistress would be wrong to refuse hisrequest. 

The queen rose then, and with the pride and majesty habitual to her, entered the adjoining room, and, having taken three steps, stopped witha disdainful air, waiting for George to address her. 

Mary Seyton had spoken truly: George Douglas was now another man. To-dayhe seemed to be as respectful and timid as the preceding day he hadseemed haughty and proud. He, in his turn, made a step towards thequeen; but seeing Mary Seyton standing behind her--

"Madam, " said he, "I wished to speak with your Majesty alone: shall Inot obtain this favour?"

"Mary Seyton is not a stranger to me, Sir: she is my sister, my friend;she is more than all that, she is my companion in captivity. "

"And by all these claims, madam, I have the utmost veneration for her;but what I have to tell you cannot be heard by other ears than yours. Thus, madam, as the opportunity furnished now may perhaps never presentitself again, in the name of what is dearest to you, grant me what Iask. "

There was such a tone of respectful prayer in George's voice that Maryturned to the young girl, and, making her a friendly sign with herhand--

"Go, then, darling, " said she; "but be easy, you will lose nothing bynot hearing. Go. "

Mary Seyton withdrew; the queen smilingly looked after her, till thedoor was shut; then, turning to George--

"Now, sir, " said she, "we are alone, speak. "

But George, instead of replying, advanced to the queen, and, kneeling onone knee, drew from his breast a paper which he presented to her. Marytook it with amazement, unfolded it, glancing at Douglas, who remainedin the same posture, and read as follows:

We, earls, lords, and barons, in consideration that our queen isdetained at Lochleven, and that her faithful subjects cannot have accessto her person; seeing, on the other hand, that our duty pledges us toprovide for her safety, promise and swear to employ all reasonablemeans which will depend on us to set her at liberty again on conditionscompatible with the honour of her Majesty, the welfare of the kingdom, and even with the safety of those who keep her in prison, provided thatthey consent to give her up; that if they refuse, we declare that weare prepared to make use of ourselves, our children, our friends, ourservants, our vassals, our goods, our persons, and our lives, to restoreher to liberty, to procure the safety of the prince, and to co-operatein punishing the late king's murderers. If we are assailed for thisintent, whether as a body or in private, we promise to defend ourselves, and to aid one another, under pain of infamy and perjury. So may Godhelp us. 

"Given with our own hands at Dumbarton, "St. Andrews, Argyll, Huntly, Arbroath, Galloway, Ross, Fleming, Herries, Stirling, Kilwinning, Hamilton, and Saint-Clair, Knight. "

"And Seyton!" cried Mary, "among all these signatures, I do not see thatof my faithful Seyton. "

Douglas, still kneeling, drew from his breast a second paper, andpresented it to the queen with the same marks of respect. It containedonly these few words:

"Trust George Douglas; for your Majesty has no more devoted friend inthe entire kingdom. 

"SEYTON. "

Mary lowered her eyes to Douglas with an expression which was hers only;then, giving him her hand to raise him--

"Ah!" said she, with a sigh more of joy than of sadness, "now I see thatGod, in spite of my faults, has not yet abandoned me. But how is it, inthis castle, that you, a Douglas. . . . Oh! it is incredible!"

"Madam, " replied George, "seven years have passed since I saw you inFrance for the first time, and for seven years I have loved you". Marymoved; but Douglas put forth his hand and shook his head with an air ofsuch profound sadness, that she understood that she might hear what theyoung man had to say. He continued: "Reassure yourself, madam; I shouldnever have made this confession if, while explaining my conduct to you, this confession would not have given you greater confidence in me. Yes, for seven years I have loved you, but as one loves a star that one cannever reach, a madonna to whom one can only pray; for seven years I havefollowed you everywhere without you ever having paid attention to me, without my saying a word or making a gesture to attract your notice. Iwas on the knight of Mevillon's galley when you crossed to Scotland;I was among the regent's soldiers when you beat Huntly; I was in theescort which accompanied you when you went to see the sick kingat Glasgow; I reached Edinburgh an hour after you had left it forLochleven; and then it seemed to me that my mission was revealed tome for the first time, and that this love for which till then, I hadreproached myself as a crime, was on the contrary a favour from God. Ilearned that the lords were assembled at Dumbarton: I flew thither. Ipledged my name, I pledged my honour, I pledged my life; and I obtainedfrom them, thanks to the facility I had for coming into this fortress, the happiness of bringing you the paper they have just signed. Now, madam, forget all I have told you, except the assurance of my devotionand respect: forget that I am near you; I am used to not being seen:only, if you have need of my life, make a sign; for seven years my lifehas been yours. "

"Alas!" replied Mary, "I was complaining this morning of no longer beingloved, and I ought to complain, on the contrary, that I am still loved;for the love that I inspire is fatal and mortal. Look back, Douglas, and count the tombs that, young as I am, I have already left on mypath--Francis II, Chatelard, Rizzio, Darnley. . . . Oh to attach one's selfto my fortunes more than love is needed now heroism and devotion arerequisite so much the more that, as you have said, Douglas, it is lovewithout any possible reward. Do you understand?"

"Oh, madam, madam, " answered Douglas, "is it not reward beyond mydeserts to see you daily, to cherish the hope that liberty will berestored to you through me, and to have at least, if I do not give ityou, the certainty of dying in your sight?"

"Poor young man!" murmured Mary, her eyes raised to heaven, as if shewere reading there beforehand the fate awaiting her new defender. 

"Happy Douglas, on the contrary, " cried George, seizing the queen'shand and kissing it with perhaps still more respect than love, "happyDouglas! for in obtaining a sigh from your Majesty he has alreadyobtained more than he hoped. "

"And upon what have you decided with my friends?" said the queen, raising Douglas, who till then had remained on his knees before her. 

"Nothing yet, " George replied; "for we scarcely had time to see oneanother. Your escape, impossible without me, is difficult even withme; and your Majesty has seen that I was obliged publicly to fail inrespect, to obtain from my mother the confidence which gives me the goodfortune of seeing you to-day: if this confidence on my mother's or mybrother's part ever extends to giving up to me the castle keys, then youare saved! Let your Majesty not be surprised at anything, then: in thepresence of others, I shall ever be always a Douglas, that is an enemy;and except your life be in danger, madam, I shall not utter a word, Ishall not make a gesture which might betray the faith that I havesworn you; but, on your side, let your grace know well, that present orabsent, whether I am silent or speak, whether I act or remain inert, allwill be in appearance only, save my devotion. Only, " continued Douglas, approaching the window and showing to the queen a little house onKinross hill, --"only, look every evening in that direction, madam, andso long as you see a light shine there, your friends will be keepingwatch for you, and you need not lose hope. "

"Thanks, Douglas, thanks, " said the queen; "it does one good to meetwith a heart like yours from time to time--oh! thanks. "

"And now, madam, " replied the young man, "I must leave your Majesty; toremain longer with you would be to raise suspicions, and a single doubtof me, think of it well, madam, and that light which is your sole beaconis extinguished, and all returns into night. "

With these words, Douglas bowed more respectfully than he had yet done, and withdrew, leaving Mary full of hope, and still more full of pride;for this time the homage that she had just received was certainly forthe woman and not for the queen. 

As the queen had told him, Mary Seyton was informed of everything, eventhe love of Douglas, and, the two women impatiently awaited the eveningto see if the promised star would shine on the horizon. Their hopewas not in vain: at the appointed time the beacon was lit. The queentrembled with joy, for it was the confirmation of her hopes, and hercompanion could not tear her from the window, where she remained withher gaze fastened on the little house in Kinross. At last she yieldedto Mary Seyton's prayers, and consented to go to bed; but twice in thenight she rose noiselessly to go to the window: the light was alwaysshining, and was not extinguished till dawn, with its sisters the stars. 

Next day, at breakfast, George announced to the queen the return of hisbrother, William Douglas: he arrived the same evening; as to himself, George, he had to leave Lochleven next morning, to confer with thenobles who had signed the declaration, and who had immediately separatedto raise troops in their several counties. The queen could not attemptto good purpose any escape but at a time when she would be sure ofgathering round her an army strong enough to hold the country; as tohim, Douglas, one was so used to his silent disappearances and to hisunexpected returns, that there was no reason to fear that his departurewould inspire any suspicion. 

All passed as George had said: in the evening the sound of a bugleannounced the arrival of William Douglas; he had with him Lord Ruthven, the son of him who had assassinated Rizzio, and who, exiled with Mortonafter the murder, died in England of the sickness with which he wasalready attacked the day of the terrible catastrophe in which we haveseen him take such a large share. He preceded by one day Lord Lindsayof Byres and Sir Robert Melville, brother of Mary's former ambassador toElizabeth: all three were charged with a mission from the regent to thequeen. 

On the following day everything fell back into the usual routine, andWilliam Douglas reassumed his duties as carver. Breakfast passed withoutMary's having learned anything of George's departure or Ruthven'sarrival. On rising from the table she went to her window: scarcely wasshe there than she heard the sound of a horn echoing on the shores ofthe lake, and saw a little troop of horsemen halt, while waiting for theboat to came and take those who were going to the castle. 

The distance was too great for Mary to recognise any of the visitors;but it was clear, from the signs of intelligence exchanged between thelittle troop and the inhabitants of the fortress, that the newcomerswere her enemies. This was a reason why the queen, in her uneasiness, should not lose sight for a moment of the boat which was going to fetchthem. She saw only two men get into it; and immediately it put off againfor the castle. 

As the boat drew nearer, Mary's presentiments changed to real fears, for in one of the men coming towards her she thought she made out LordLindsay of Byres, the same who, a week before, had brought her to herprison. It was indeed he himself, as usual in a steel helmet withouta visor, which allowed one to see his coarse face designed to expressstrong passions, and his long black beard with grey hairs here andthere, which covered his chest: his person was protected, as if it werein time of war, with his faithful suit of armour, formerly polished andwell gilded, but which, exposed without ceasing to rain and mist, wasnow eaten up with rust; he had slung on his back, much as one slings aquiver, a broadsword, so heavy that it took two hands to manage it, andso long that while the hilt reached the left shoulder the point reachedthe right spur: in a word, he was still the same soldier, brave torashness but brutal to insolence, recognising nothing but right andforce, and always ready to use force when he believed himself in theright. 

The queen was so much taken up with the sight of Lord Lindsay of Byres, that it was only just as the boat reached the shore that she glanced athis companion and recognised Robert Melville: this was some consolation, for, whatever might happen, she knew that she should find in him if notostensible at least secret sympathy. Besides, his dress, by which onecould have judged him equally with Lord Lindsay, was a perfect contrastto his companion's. It consisted of a black velvet doublet, with a capand a feather of the same hue fastened to it with a gold clasp; his onlyweapon, offensive or defensive, was a little sword, which he seemed towear rather as a sign of his rank than for attack or defence. As tohis features and his manners, they were in harmony with this peacefulappearance: his pale countenance expressed both acuteness andintelligence; his quick eye was mild, and his voice insinuating; hisfigure slight and a little bent by habit rather than by years, sincehe was but forty-five at this time, indicated an easy and conciliatorycharacter. 

However, the presence of this man of peace, who seemed entrusted withwatching over the demon of war, could not reassure the queen, and as toget to the landing-place, in front of the great door of the castle, theboat had just disappeared behind the corner of a tower, she told MarySeyton to go down that she might try to learn what cause brought LordLindsay to Lochleven, well knowing that with the force of characterwith which she was endowed, she need know this cause but a few minutesbeforehand, whatever it might be, to give her countenance that calm andthat majesty which she had always found to influence her enemies. 

Left alone, Mary let her glance stray back to the little house inKinross, her sole hope; but the distance was too great to distinguishanything; besides, its shutters remained closed all day, and seemed toopen only in the evening, like the clouds, which, having covered thesky for a whole morning, scatter at last to reveal to the lost sailora solitary star. She had remained no less motionless, her gazealways fixed on the same object, when she was drawn from this mutecontemplation by the step of Mary Seyton. 

"Well, darling?" asked the queen, turning round. 

"Your Majesty is not mistaken, " replied the messenger: "it really wasSir Robert Melville and Lord Lindsay; but there came yesterday with SirWilliam Douglas a third ambassador, whose name, I am afraid, will bestill more odious to your Majesty than either of the two I have justpronounced. "

"You deceive yourself, Mary, " the queen answered: "neither the nameof Melville nor that of Lindsay is odious to me. Melville's, on thecontrary, is, in my present circumstances, one of those which I havemost pleasure in hearing; as to Lord Lindsay's, it is doubtless notagreeable to me, but it is none the less an honourable name, alwaysborne by men rough and wild, it is true, but incapable of treachery. Tell me, then, what is this name, Mary; for you see I am calm andprepared. "

"Alas! madam, " returned Mary, "calm and prepared as you may be, collectall your strength, not merely to hear this name uttered, but also toreceive in a few minutes the man who bears it; for this name is that ofLord Ruthven. "

Mary Seyton had spoken truly, and this name had a terrible influenceupon the queen; for scarcely had it escaped the young girl's lips thanMary Stuart uttered a cry, and turning pale, as if she were about tofaint, caught hold of the window-ledge. 

Mary Seyton, frightened at the effect produced by this fatal name, immediately sprang to support the queen; but she, stretching one handtowards her, while she laid the other on her heart--

"It is nothing, " said she; "I shall be better in a moment. Yes, Mary, yes, as you said, it is a fatal name and mingled with one of my mostbloody memories. What such men are coming to ask of me must be dreadfulindeed. But no matter, I shall soon be ready to receive my brother'sambassadors, for doubtless they are sent in his name. You, darling, prevent their entering, for I must have some minutes to myself: you knowme; it will not take me long. "

With these words the queen withdrew with a firm step to her bedchamber. 

Mary Seyton was left alone, admiring that strength of character whichmade of Mary Stuart, in all other respects so completely woman-like, aman in the hour of danger. She immediately went to the door to close itwith the wooden bar that one passed between two iron rings, but the barhad been taken away, so that there was no means of fastening the doorfrom within. In a moment she heard someone coming up the stairs, andguessing from the heavy, echoing step that this must be Lord Lindsay, she looked round her once again to see if she could find something toreplace the bar, and finding nothing within reach, she passed her armthrough the rings, resolved to let it be broken rather than allow anyoneto approach her mistress before it suited her. Indeed, hardly had thosewho were coming up reached the landing than someone knocked violently, and a harsh voice cried:

"Come, come, open the door; open directly. "

"And by what right, " said Mary Seyton, "am I ordered thus insolently toopen the Queen of Scotland's door?"

"By the right of the ambassador of the regent to enter everywhere in hisname. I am Lord Lindsay, and I am come to speak to Lady Mary Stuart. "

"To be an ambassador, " answered Mary Seyton, "is not to be exempted fromhaving oneself announced in visiting a woman, and much more a queen;and if this ambassador is, as he says, Lord Lindsay, he will await hissovereign's leisure, as every Scottish noble would do in his place. "

"By St. Andrew!" cried Lord Lindsay, "open, or I will break in thedoor. "

"Do nothing to it, my lord, I entreat you, " said another voice, whichMary recognised as Meville's. "Let us rather wait for Lord Ruthven, whois not yet ready. "

"Upon my soul, " cried Lindsay, shaking the door, "I shall not wait asecond". Then, seeing that it resisted, "Why did you tell me, then, youscamp, " Lindsay went on, speaking to the steward, "that the bar had beenremoved?

"It is true, " replied he. 

"Then, " returned Lindsay, "with what is this silly wench securing thedoor?"

"With my arm, my lord, which I have passed through the rings, as aDouglas did for King James I, at a time when Douglases had dark hairinstead of red, and were faithful instead of being traitors. "

"Since you know your history so well, " replied Lindsay, in a rage, "you should remember that that weak barrier did not hinder Graham, thatCatherine Douglas's arm was broken like a willow wand, and that James I. Was killed like a dog. "

"But you, my lord, " responded the courageous young girl, "ought also toknow the ballad that is still sung in our time--

"'Now, on Robert Gra'am, The king's destroyer, shame! To Robert Grahamcling Shame, who destroyed our king. '"

"Mary, " cried the queen, who had overheard this altercation from herbedroom, --"Mary, I command you to open the door directly: do you hear?"

Mary obeyed, and Lord Lindsay entered, followed by Melville, who walkedbehind him, with slow steps and bent head. Arrived in the middle of thesecond room, Lord Lindsay stopped, and, looking round him--

"Well, where is she, then?" he asked; "and has she not already kept uswaiting long enough outside, without making us wait again inside? Ordoes she imagine that, despite these walls and these bars, she is alwaysqueen?"

"Patience, my lord, " murmured Sir Robert: "you see that Lord Ruthven hasnot come yet, and since we can do nothing without him, let us wait. "

"Let wait who will, " replied Lindsay, inflamed with anger; "but it willnot be I, and wherever she may be, I shall go and seek her. "

With these words, he made some steps towards Mary Stuart's bedroom;but at the same moment the queen opened the door, without seeming movedeither at the visit or at the insolence of the visitors, and so lovelyand so full of majesty, that each, even Lindsay himself, was silentat her appearance, and, as if in obedience to a higher power, bowedrespectfully before her. 

"I fear I have kept you waiting, my lord, " said the queen, withoutreplying to the ambassador's salutation otherwise than by a slightinclination of the head; "but a woman does not like to receive evenenemies without having spent a few minutes over her toilet. It istrue that men are less tenacious of ceremony, " added she, throwing asignificant glance at Lord Lindsay's rusty armour and soiled and pierceddoublet. "Good day, Melville, " she continued, without paying attentionto some words of excuse stammered by Lindsay; "be welcome in my prison, as you were in my palace; for I believe you as devoted to the one as tothe other". 

Then, turning to Lindsay, who was looking interrogatively at the door, impatient as he was for Ruthven to come--

"You have there, my lord, " said she, pointing to the sword he carriedover his shoulder, "a faithful companion, though it is a little heavy:did you expect, in coming here, to find enemies against whom toemploy it? In the contrary case, it is a strange ornament for a lady'spresence. But no matter, my lord, I, am too much of a Stuart to fear thesight of a sword, even if it were naked, I warn you. "

"It is not out of place here, madam, " replied Lindsay, bringing itforward and leaning his elbow on its cross hilt, "for it is an oldacquaintance of your family. "

"Your ancestors, my lord, were brave and loyal enough for me not torefuse to believe what you tell me. Besides, such a good blade must haverendered them good service. "

"Yes, madam, yes, surely it has done so, but that kind of servicethat kings do not forgive. He for whom it was made was ArchibaldBell-the-Cat, and he girded himself with it the day when, to justifyhis name, he went to seize in the very tent of King James III, yourgrandfather, his un worthy favourites, Cochran, Hummel, Leonard, andTorpichen, whom he hanged on Louder Bridge with the halters of hissoldiers' horses. It was also with this sword that he slew at one blow, in the lists, Spens of Kilspindie, who had insulted him in the presenceof King James IV, counting on the protection his master accorded him, and which did not guard him against it any more than his shield, whichit split in two. At his master's death, which took place two years afterthe defeat of Flodden, on whose battlefield he left his two sons and twohundred warriors of the name of Douglas, it passed into the hands of theEarl of Angus, who drew it from the scabbard when he drove the Hamiltonsout of Edinburgh, and that so quickly and completely that the affair wascalled the 'sweeping of the streets. ' Finally, your father James V sawit glisten in the fight of the bridge over the Tweed, when Buccleuch, stirred up by him, wanted to snatch him from the guardianship of theDouglases, and when eighty warriors of the name of Scott remained on thebattlefield. "

"But, " said the queen, "how is it that this weapon, after such exploits, has not remained as a trophy in the Douglas family? No doubt the Earl ofAngus required a great occasion to decide him to-renounce in your favourthis modern Excalibur". [History of Scotland, by Sir Walter Scott. --"TheAbbott": historical part. ]

"Yes, no doubt, madam, it was upon a great occasion, " replied Lindsay, in spite of the imploring signs made by Melville, "and this will have atleast the advantage of the others, in being sufficiently recent for youto remember. It was ten days ago, on the battlefield of Carberry Hill, madam, when the infamous Bothwell had the audacity to make a publicchallenge in which he defied to single combat whomsoever would dareto maintain that he was not innocent of the murder of the king yourhusband. I made him answer then, I the third, that he was an assassin. And as he refused to fight with the two others under the pretext thatthey were only barons, I presented myself in my turn, I who am earl andlord. It was on that occasion that the noble Earl of Morton gave me thisgood sword to fight him to the death. So that, if he had been a littlemore presumptuous or a little less cowardly, dogs and vultures would beeating at this moment the pieces that, with the help of this good sword, I should have carved for them from that traitor's carcass. "

At these words, Mary Seyton and Robert Melville looked at each other interror, for the events that they recalled were so recent that they were, so to speak, still living in the queen's heart; but the queen, withincredible impassibility and a smile of contempt on her lips--

"It is easy, my lord, " said she, "to vanquish an enemy who does notappear in the lists; however, believe me, if Mary had inherited theStuarts' sword as she has inherited their sceptre, your sword, long asit is, would yet have seemed to you too short. But as you have only torelate to us now, my lord, what you intended doing, and not what youhave done, think it fit that I bring you back to something of morereality; for I do not suppose you have given yourself the trouble tocome here purely and simply to add a chapter to the little treatise DesRodomontades Espagnolles by M. De Brantome. "

"You are right, madam, " replied Lindsay, reddening with anger, "and youwould already know the object of our mission if Lord Ruthven did not soridiculously keep us waiting. But, " added he, "have patience; the matterwill not be long now, for here he is. "

Indeed, at that moment they heard steps mounting the staircase andapproaching the room, and at the sound of these steps, the queen, whohad borne with such firmness Lindsay's insults, grew so perceptiblypaler, that Melville, who did not take his eyes off her, --put out hishand towards the arm-chair as if to push it towards her; but the queenmade a sign that she had no need of it, and gazed at the door withapparent calm. Lord Ruthven appeared; it was the first time that she hadseen the son since Rizzio had been assassinated by the father. 

Lord Ruthven was both a warrior and a statesman, and at this moment hisdress savoured of the two professions: it consisted of a close coat ofembroidered buff leather, elegant enough to be worn as a court undress, and on which, if need were, one could buckle a cuirass, for battle: likehis father, he was pale; like his father, he was to die young, and, evenmore than his father, his countenance wore that ill-omened melancholy bywhich fortune-tellers recognise those who are to die a violent death. 

Lord Ruthven united in himself the polished dignity of a courtier andthe inflexible character of a minister; but quite resolved as he was toobtain from Mary Stuart, even if it were by violence, what he had cometo demand in the regent's name, he none the less made her, on entering, a cold but respectful greeting, to which the queen responded with acourtesy; then the steward drew up to the empty arm-chair a heavy tableon which had been prepared everything necessary for writing, and at asign from the two lords he went out, leaving the queen and her companionalone with the three ambassadors. Then the queen, seeing that this tableand this arm-chair were put ready for her, sat down; and after a moment, herself breaking this silence more gloomy than any word could havebeen--

"My lords, " said she, "you see that I wait: can it be that this messagewhich you have to communicate to me is so terrible that two soldiersas renowned as Lord Lindsay and Lord Ruthven hesitate at the moment oftransmitting it?"

"Madam, " answered Ruthven, "I am not of a family, as you know, whichever hesitates to perform a duty, painful as it may be; besides, we hopethat your captivity has prepared you to hear what we have to tell you onthe part of the Secret Council. "

"The Secret Council!" said the queen. "Instituted by me, by what rightdoes it act without me? No matter, I am waiting for this message: Isuppose it is a petition to implore my mercy for the men who have daredto reach to a power that I hold only from God. "

"Madam, " replied Ruthven, who appeared to have undertaken the painfulrole of spokesman, while Lindsay, mute and impatient, fidgeted with thehilt of his long sword, "it is distressing to me to have to undeceiveyou on this point: it is not your mercy that I come to ask; it is, onthe contrary, the pardon of the Secret Council that I come to offeryou. "

"To me, my lord, to me!" cried Mary: "subjects offer pardon to theirqueen! Oh! it is such a new and wonderful thing, that my amazementoutweighs my indignation, and that I beg you to continue, instead ofstopping you there, as perhaps I ought to do. "

"And I obey you so much the more willingly, madam, " went on Ruthvenimperturbably, "that this pardon is only granted on certain conditions, stated in these documents, destined to re-establish the tranquillity ofthe State, so cruelly compromised by the errors that they are going torepair. "

"And shall I be permitted, my lord, to read these documents, or must I, allured by my confidence in those who present them to me, sign them withmy eyes shut?"

"No, madam, " Ruthven returned; "the Secret Council desire, on thecontrary, that you acquaint yourself with them, for you must sign themfreely. "

"Read me these documents, my lord; for such a reading is, I think, included in the strange duties you have accepted. "

Lord Ruthven took one of the two papers that he had in his hand, andread with the impassiveness of his usual voice the following:

"Summoned from my tenderest youth to the government of the kingdomand to the crown of Scotland, I have carefully attended to theadministration; but I have experienced so much fatigue and trouble thatI no longer find my mind free enough nor my strength great enough tosupport the burden of affairs of State: accordingly, and as Divinefavour has granted us a son whom we desire to see during our lifetimebear the crown which he has acquired by right of birth, we have resolvedto abdicate, and we abdicate in his favour, by these presents, freelyand voluntarily, all our rights to the crown and to the government ofScotland, desiring that he may immediately ascend the throne, as if hewere called to it by our natural death, and not as the effect of ourown will; and that our present abdication may have a more completeand solemn effect, and that no one should put forward the claim ofignorance, we give full powers to our trusty and faithful cousins, thelords Lindsay of Byres and William Ruthven, to appear in our name beforethe nobility, the clergy, and the burgesses of Scotland, of whom theywill convoke an assembly at Stirling, and to there renounce, publiclyand solemnly, on our part, all our claims to the crown and to thegovernment of Scotland. 

"Signed freely and as the testimony of one of our last royal wishes, inour castle of Lochleven, the ---- June 1567". (The date was left blank. )

There was a moment's silence after this reading, then

"Did you hear, madam?" asked Ruthven. 

"Yes, " replied Mary Stuart, --"yes, I have heard rebellious words that Ihave not understood, and I thought that my ears, that one has tried toaccustom for some time to a strange language, still deceived me, andthat I have thought for your honour, my lord William Ruthven, and mylord Lindsay of Byres. "

"Madam, " answered Lindsay, out of patience at having kept silence solong, "our honour has nothing to do with the opinion of a woman who hasso ill known how to watch over her own. "

"My lord!" said Melville, risking a word. 

"Let him speak, Robert, " returned the queen. "We have in our consciencearmour as well tempered as that with which Lord Lindsay is so prudentlycovered, although, to the shame of justice, we no longer have a sword. Continue, my lord, " the queen went on, turning to Lord Ruthven: "isthis all that my subjects require of me? A date and a signature? Ah!doubtless it is too little; and this second paper, which you have keptin order to proceed by degrees, probably contains some demand moredifficult to grant than that of yielding to a child scarcely a year olda crown which belongs to me by birthright, and to abandon my sceptre totake a distaff. "

"This other paper, " replied Ruthven, without letting himself beintimidated by the tone of bitter irony adopted by the queen, "is thedeed by which your Grace confirms the decision of the Secret Councilwhich has named your beloved brother, the Earl of Murray, regent of thekingdom. "

"Indeed!" said Mary. "The Secret Council thinks it needs my confirmationto an act of such slight importance? And my beloved brother, to bearit without remorse, needs that it should be I who add a fresh title tothose of Earl of Mar and of Murray that I have already bestowed uponhim? But one cannot desire anything more respectful and touching thanall this, and I should be very wrong to complain. My lords, " continuedthe queen, rising and changing her tone, "return to those who have sentyou, and tell them that to such demands Mary Stuart has no answer togive. "

"Take care, madam, " responded Ruthven; "for I have told you it is onlyon these conditions that your pardon can be granted you. "

"And if I refuse this generous pardon, " asked Mary, "what will happen?"

"I cannot pronounce beforehand, madam; but your Grace has enoughknowledge of the laws, and above all of the history of Scotland andEngland, to know that murder and adultery are crimes for which more thanone queen has been punished with death. "

"And upon what proofs could such a charge be founded, my lord? Pardonmy persistence, which takes up your precious time; but I am sufficientlyinterested in the matter to be permitted such a question. "

"The proof, madam?" returned Ruthven. "There is but one, I know; butthat one is unexceptionable: it is the precipitate marriage of the widowof the assassinated with the chief assassin, and the letters which havebeen handed over to us by James Balfour, which prove that the guiltypersons had united their adulterous hearts before it was permitted themto unite their bloody hands. "

"My lord, " cried the queen, "do you forget a certain repast given inan Edinburgh tavern, by this same Bothwell, to those same noblemen whotreat him to-day as an adulterer and a murderer; do you forget that atthe end of that meal, and on the same table at which it had been given, a paper was signed to invite that same woman, to whom to-day you makethe haste of her new wedding a crime, to leave off a widow's mourning toreassume a marriage robe? for if you have forgotten it, my lords, which would do no more honour to your sobriety than to your memory, Iundertake to show it to you, I who have preserved it; and perhaps if wesearch well we shall find among the signatures the names of Lindsay ofByres and William Ruthven. O noble Lord Herries, " cried Mary, "loyalJames Melville, you alone were right then, when you threw yourselves atmy feet, entreating me not to conclude this marriage, which, I see itclearly to-day, was only a trap set for an ignorant woman by perfidiousadvisers or disloyal lords. "

"Madam, " cried Ruthven, in spite of his cold impassivity beginning tolose command of himself, while Lindsay was giving still more noisy andless equivocal signs of impatience, "madam, all these discussions arebeside our aim: I beg you to return to it, then, and inform us if, your life and honour guaranteed, you consent to abdicate the crown ofScotland. "

"And what safeguard should I have that the promises you here make mewill be kept?"

"Our word, madam, " proudly replied Ruthven. 

"Your word, my lord, is a very feeble pledge to offer, when one soquickly forgets one's signature: have you not some trifle to add to it, to make me a little easier than I should be with it alone?"

"Enough, Ruthven, enough, " cried Lindsay. "Do you not see that for anhour this woman answers our proposals only by insults?"

"Yes, let us go, " said Ruthven; "and thank yourself only, madam, forthe day when the thread breaks which holds the sword suspended over yourhead. "

"My lords, " cried Melville, "my lords, in Heaven's name, a littlepatience, and forgive something to her who, accustomed to command, istoday forced to obey. "

"Very well, " said Lindsay, turning round, "stay with her, then, and tryto obtain by your smooth words what is refused to our frank and loyaldemand. In a quarter of an hour we shall return: let the answer be readyin a quarter of an hour!"

With these words, the two noblemen went out, leaving Melville withthe queen; and one could count their footsteps, from the noise thatLindsay's great sword made, in resounding on each step of the staircase. 

Scarcely were they alone than Melville threw himself at the queen'sfeet. 

"Madam, " said he, "you remarked just now that Lord Herries and mybrother had given your Majesty advice that you repented not havingfollowed; well, madam, reflect on that I in my turn give you; for itis more important than the other, for you will regret with still morebitterness not having listened to it. Ah! you do not know what mayhappen, you are ignorant of what your brother is capable. "

"It seems to me, however, " returned the queen, "that he has justinstructed me on that head: what more will he do than he has donealready? A public trial! Oh! it is all I ask: let me only plead mycause, and we shall see what judges will dare to condemn me. "

"But that is what they will take good care not to do, madam; for theywould be mad to do it when they keep you here in this isolated castle, in the care of your enemies, having no witness but God, who avengescrime, but who does not prevent it. Recollect, madam, what Machiavellihas said, 'A king's tomb is never far from his prison. ' You come of afamily in which one dies young, madam, and almost always of a suddendeath: two of your ancestors perished by steel, and one by poison. "

"Oh, if my death were sudden and easy, " cried Mary, "yes, I shouldaccept it as an expiation for my faults; for if I am proud when Icompare myself with others, Melville, I am humble when I judge myself. Iam unjustly accused of being an accomplice of Darnley's death, but I amjustly condemned for having married Bothwell. "

"Time presses, madam; time presses, " cried Melville, looking at thesand, which, placed on the table, was marking the time. "They are comingback, they will be here in a minute; and this time you must give them ananswer. Listen, madam, and at least profit by your situation as muchas you can. You are alone here with one woman, without friends, withoutprotection, without power: an abdication signed at such a juncture willnever appear to your people to have been freely given, but will alwayspass as having been torn from you by force; and if need be, madam, ifthe day comes when such a solemn declaration is worth something, well, then you will have two witnesses of the violence done you: the one willbe Mary Seyton, and the other, " he added in a low voice and lookinguneasily about him, --"the other will be Robert Melville. "

Hardly had he finished speaking when the footsteps of the two nobleswere again heard on the staircase, returning even before the quarter ofan hour had elapsed; a moment afterwards the door opened, and Ruthvenappeared, while over his shoulder was seen Lindsay's head. 

"Madam, " said Ruthven, "we have returned. Has your Grace decided? Wecome for your answer. "

"Yes, " said Lindsay, pushing aside Ruthven, who stood in his way, andadvancing to the table, --"yes, an answer, clear, precise, positive, andwithout dissimulation. "

"You are exacting, my lord, " said the queen: "you would scarcely havethe right to expect that from me if I were in full liberty on the otherside of the lake and surrounded with a faithful escort; but betweenthese walls, behind these bars, in the depths of this fortress, I shallnot tell you that I sign voluntarily, lest you should not believe it. But no matter, you want my signature; well, I am going to give it toyou. Melville, pass me the pen. "

"But I hope, " said Lord Ruthven, "that your Grace is not counting onusing your present position one day in argument to protest against whatyou are going to do?"

The queen had already stooped to write, she had already set her hand tothe paper, when Ruthven spoke to her. But scarcely had he done so, thanshe rose up proudly, and letting fall the pen, "My lord, " said she, "what you asked of me just now was but an abdication pure and simple, and I was going to sign it. But if to this abdication is joined thismarginal note, then I renounce of my own accord, and as judging myselfunworthy, the throne of Scotland. I would not do it for the three unitedcrowns that I have been robbed of in turn. "

"Take care, madam, " cried Lord Lindsay, seizing the queen's wrist withhis steel gauntlet and squeezing it with all his angry strength--"takecare, for our patience is at an end, and we could easily end by breakingwhat would not bend. "

The queen remained standing, and although a violent flush had passedlike a flame over her countenance, she did not utter a word, and did notmove: her eyes only were fixed with such a great expression of contempton those of the rough baron, that he, ashamed of the passion that hadcarried him away, let go the hand he had seized and took a step back. Then raising her sleeve and showing the violet marks made on her arm byLord Lindsay's steel gauntlet, "This is what I expected, my lords, " said she, "and nothing prevents meany longer from signing; yes, I freely abdicate the throne and crown ofScotland, and there is the proof that my will has not been forced. "

With these words, she took the pen and rapidly signed the two documents, held them out to Lord Ruthven, and bowing with great dignity, withdrewslowly into her room, accompanied by Mary Seyton. Ruthven looked afterher, and when she had disappeared, "It doesn't matter, " he said;"she has signed, and although the means you employed, Lindsay, may beobsolete enough in diplomacy, it is not the less efficacious, it seems. "

"No joking, Ruthven, " said Lindsay; "for she is a noble creature, andif I had dared, I should have thrown myself at her feet to ask herforgiveness. "

"There is still time, " replied Ruthven, "and Mary, in her presentsituation, will not be severe upon you: perhaps she has resolved toappeal to the judgment of God to prove her innocence, and in that case achampion such as you might well change the face of things. "

"Do not joke, Ruthven, " Lindsay answered a second time, with moreviolence than the first; "for if I were as well convinced of herinnocence as I am of her crime, I tell you that no one should touch ahair of her head, not even the regent. "

"The devil! my lord, " said Ruthven. "I did not know you were sosensitive to a gentle voice and a tearful eye; you know the story ofAchilles' lance, which healed with its rust the wounds it made with itsedge: do likewise my lord, do likewise. "

"Enough, Ruthven, enough, " replied Lindsay; "you are like a corseletof Milan steel, which is three times as bright as the steel armourof Glasgow, but which is at the same time thrice as hard: we know oneanother, Ruthven, so an end to railleries or threats; enough, believeme, enough. "

And after these words, Lord Lindsay went out first, followed by Ruthvenand Melville, the first with his head high and affecting an air ofinsolent indifference, and the second, sad, his brow bent, and not eventrying to disguise the painful impression which this scene had madeon him. ' ["History of Scotland, by Sir Walter Scott. --'The Abbott":historical part. ]

CHAPTER VI

The queen came out of her room only in the evening, to take her placeat the window which looked over the lake: at the usual time she saw thelight which was henceforth her sole hope shine in the little house inKinross; for a whole long month she had no other consolation than seeingit, every night, fixed and faithful. 

At last, at the end of this time, and as she was beginning to despairof seeing George Douglas again, one morning, on opening the window, sheuttered a cry. Mary Seyton ran to her, and the queen, without havingstrength to speak, showed her in the middle of the lake the tiny boat atanchor, and in the boat Little Douglas and George, who were absorbed infishing, their favourite amusement. The young man had arrived the daybefore, and as everyone was accustomed to his unexpected returns, thesentinel had not even blown the horn, and the queen had not known thatat last a friend had come. 

However, she was three days yet without seeing this friend otherwisethan she had just done-that is, on the lake. It is true that frommorning till evening he did not leave that spot, from which he couldview the queen's windows and the queen herself, when, to gaze at a widerhorizon, she leaned her face against the bars. At last, on the morningof the fourth day, the queen was awakened by a great noise of dogs andhorns: she immediately ran to the window, for to a prisoner everythingis an event, and she saw William Douglas, who was embarking with a packof hounds and some huntsmen. In fact, making a truce, for a day, withhis gaoler's duties, to enjoy a pleasure more in harmony with his rankand birth, he was going to hunt in the woods which cover the last ridgeof Ben Lomond, and which, ever sinking, die down on the banks of thelake. 

The queen trembled with delight, for she hoped that Lady Lochleven wouldmaintain her ill-will, and that then George would replace his brother:this hope was not disappointed. At the usual time the queen heard thefootsteps of those who were bringing her her breakfast; the door opened, and she saw George Douglas enter, preceded by the servants who werecarrying the dishes. George barely bowed; but the queen, warned byhim not to be surprised at anything, returned him his greeting with adisdainful air; then the servants performed their task and went out, asthey were accustomed. 

"At last, " said the queen, "you are back again, then. "

George motioned with his finger, went to the door to listen if all theservants had really gone away, and if no one had remained to spy. Then, returning more at ease, and bowing respectfully--

"Yes, madam, " returned he; "and, Heaven be thanked, I bring good news. "

"Oh, tell me quickly!" cried the queen; "for staying in this castle ishell. You knew that they came, did you not, and that they made me signan abdication?"

"Yes, madam, " replied Douglas; "but we also knew that your signaturehad been obtained from you by violence alone, and our devotion to yourMajesty is increased thereby, if possible. "

"But, after all, what have you done?"

"The Seytons and the Hamiltons, who are, as your Majesty knows, yourmost faithful servants, "--Mary turned round, smiling, and put out herhand to Mary Seyton, --"have already, " continued George, "assembled theirtroops, who keep themselves in readiness for the first signal; but asthey alone would not be sufficiently numerous to hold the country, weshall make our way directly to Dumbarton, whose governor is ours, andwhich by its position and its strength can hold out long enough againstall the regent's troops to give to the faithful hearts remaining to youtime to come and join us. "

"Yes, yes, " said the queen; "I see clearly what we shall do once we getout of this; but how are we to get out?"

"That is the occasion, madam, " replied Douglas, "for which your Majestymust call to your aid that courage of which you have given such greatproofs. "

"If I have need only of courage and coolness, " replied the queen, "beeasy; neither the one nor the other will fail me. "

"Here is a file, " said George, giving Mary Seyton that instrument whichhe judged unworthy to touch the queen's hands, "and this evening I shallbring your Majesty cords to construct a ladder. You will cut throughone of the bars of this window, it is only at a height of twenty feet;I shall come up to you, as much to try it as to support you; one of thegarrison is in my pay, he will give us passage by the door it is hisduty to guard, and you will be free. "

"And when will that be?" cried the queen. 

"We must wait for two things, madam, " replied Douglas: "the first, tocollect at Kinross an escort sufficient for your Majesty's safety; thesecond, that the turn for night watch of Thomas Warden should happen tobe at an isolated door that we can reach without being seen. "

"And how will you know that? Do you stay at the castle, then?"

"Alas! no, madam, " replied George; "at the castle I am a useless andeven a dangerous fried for you, while once beyond the lake I can serveyou in an effectual manner. "

"And how will you know when Warden's turn to mount guard has come?"

"The weathercock in the north tower, instead of turning in the wind withthe others, will remain fixed against it. "

"But I, how shall I be warned?"

"Everything is already provided for on that side: the light which shineseach night in the little house in Kinross incessantly tells you thatyour friends keep watch for you; but when you would like to know if thehour of your deliverance approaches or recedes, in your turn placea light in this window. The other will immediately disappear; then, placing your hand on your breast, count your heartbeats: if you reachthe number twenty without the light reappearing, nothing is yet settled;if you only reach ten, the moment approaches; if the light does notleave you time to count beyond five, your escape is fixed for thefollowing night; if it reappears no more, it is fixed for the sameevening; then the owl's cry, repeated thrice in the courtyard, will bethe signal; let down the ladder when you hear it". 

"Oh, Douglas, " cried the queen, "you alone could foresee and calculateeverything thus. Thank you, thank you a hundred times!" And she gave himher hand to kiss. 

A vivid red flushed the young man's cheeks; but almost directlymastering his emotion, he kneeled down, and, restraining the expressionof that love of which he had once spoken to the queen, while promisingher never more to speak of it, he took the hand that Mary extended, andkissed it with such respect that no one could have seen in this actionanything but the homage of devotion and fidelity. 

Then, having bowed to the queen, he went out, that a longer stay withher should not give rise to any suspicions. 

At the dinner-hour Douglas brought, as he had said, a parcel of cord. Itwas not enough, but when evening came Mary Seyton was to unroll it andlet fall the end from the window, and George would fasten the remainderto it: the thing was done as arranged, and without any mishap, an hourafter the hunters had returned. 

The following day George left the castle. 

The queen and Mary Seyton lost no time in setting about the rope ladder, and it was finished on the third day. The same evening, the queen inher impatience, and rather to assure herself of her partisans' vigilancethan in the hope that the time of her deliverance was so near, broughther lamp to the window: immediately, and as George Douglas had told her, the light in the little house at Kinross disappeared: the queen thenlaid her hand on her heart and counted up to twenty-two; then the lightreappeared; they were ready for everything, but nothing was yet settled. For a week the queen thus questioned the light and her heart-beatswithout their number changing; at last, on the eighth day, she countedonly as far as ten; at the eleventh the light reappeared. 

The queen believed herself mistaken: she did not dare to hope what thisannounced. She withdrew the lamp; then, at the end of a quarter of anhour, showed it again: her unknown correspondent understood with hisusual intelligence that a fresh trial was required of him, and the lightin the little house disappeared in its turn. Mary again questioned thepulsations of her heart, and, fast as it leaped, before the twelfth beatthe propitious star was shining on the horizon: there was no longer anydoubt; everything was settled. 

Mary could not sleep all night: this persistency of her partisansinspired her with gratitude to the point of tears. The day came, and thequeen several times questioned her companion to assure herself that itwas not all a dream; at every sound it seemed to her that the schemeon which her liberty hung was discovered, and when, at breakfast and atdinner time, William Douglas entered as usual, she hardly dared look athim, for fear of reading on his face the announcement that all was lost. 

In the evening the queen again questioned the light: it made the sameanswer; nothing had altered; the beacon was always one of hope. 

For four days it thus continued to indicate that the moment of escapewas at hand; on the evening of the fifth, before the queen had countedfive beats, the light reappeared: the queen leaned upon Mary Seyton; shewas nearly fainting, between dread and 'delight. Her escape was fixedfor the next evening. 

The queen tried once more, and obtained the same reply: there was nolonger a doubt; everything was ready except the prisoner's courage, forit failed her for a moment, and if Mary Seyton had not drawn up a seatin time, she would have fallen prone; but, the first moment over, shecollected herself as usual, and was stronger and more resolute thanever. 

Till midnight the queen remained at the window, her eyes fixed on thatstar of good omen: at last Mary Seyton persuaded her to go to bed, offering, if she had no wish to sleep, to read her some verses by M. Ronsard, or some chapters from the Mer des Histoires; but Mary had nodesire now for any profane reading, and had her Hours read, making theresponses as she would have done if she had been present at a mass saidby a Catholic priest: towards dawn, however, she grew drowsy, and asMary Seyton, for her part, was dropping with fatigue, she fell asleepdirectly in the arm-chair at the head of the queen's bed. 

Next day she awoke, feeling that someone was tapping her on theshoulder: it was the queen, who had already arisen. 

"Come and see, darling, " said she, --"come and see the fine day that Godis giving us. Oh! how alive is Nature! How happy I shall be to be oncemore free among those plains and mountains! Decidedly, Heaven is on ourside. "

"Madam, " replied Mary, "I would rather see the weather less fine: itwould promise us a darker night; and consider, what we need is darkness, not light. "

"Listen, " said the queen; "it is by this we are going to see if God isindeed for us; if the weather remains as it is, yes, you are right, Heabandons us; but if it clouds over, oh! then, darling, this will be acertain proof of His protection, will it not?"

Mary Seyton smiled, nodding that she adopted her mistress'ssuperstition; then the queen, incapable of remaining idle in her greatpreoccupation of mind, collected the few jewels that she had preserved, enclosed them in a casket, got ready for the evening a black dress, inorder to be still better hidden in the darkness: and, these preparationsmade, she sat down again at the window, ceaselessly carrying her eyesfrom the lake to the little house in Kinross, shut up and dumb as usual. 

The dinner-hour arrived: the queen was so happy that she receivedWilliam Douglas with more goodwill than was her wont, and it was withdifficulty she remained seated during the time the meal lasted; but sherestrained herself, and William Douglas withdrew, without seeming tohave noticed her agitation. 

Scarcely had he gone than Mary ran to the window; she had need of air, and her gaze devoured in advance those wide horizons which she was aboutto cross anew; it seemed to her that once at liberty she wouldnever shut herself up in a palace again, but would wander about thecountryside continually: then, amid all these tremors of delight, fromtime to time she felt unexpectedly heavy at heart. She then turned roundto Mary Seyton, trying to fortify her strength with hers, and the younggirl kept up her hopes, but rather from duty than from conviction. 

But slow as they seemed to the queen, the hours yet passed: towards theafternoon some clouds floated across the blue sky; the queen remarkedupon them joyfully to her companion; Mary Seyton congratulated her uponthem, not on account of the imaginary omen that the queen sought inthem, but because of the real importance that the weather should becloudy, that darkness might aid them in their flight. While the twoprisoners were watching the billowy, moving vapours, the hour of dinnerarrived; but it was half an hour of constraint and dissimulation, themore painful that, no doubt in return for the sort of goodwill shown himby the queen in the morning, William Douglas thought himself obliged, in his turn, to accompany his duties with fitting compliments, whichcompelled the queen to take a more active part in the conversation thanher preoccupation allowed her; but William Douglas did not seem in anyway to observe this absence of mind, and all passed as at breakfast. 

Directly he had gone the queen ran to the window: the few clouds whichwere chasing one another in the sky an hour before had thickened andspread, and--all the blue was blotted out, to give place to a hue dulland leaden as pewter. Mary Stuart's presentiments were thus realised:as to the little house in Kinross, which one could still make out in thedusk, it remained shut up, and seemed deserted. 

Night fell: the light shone as usual; the queen signalled, itdisappeared. Mary Stuart waited in vain; everything remained indarkness: the escape was for the same evening. The queen heard eighto'clock, nine o'clock, and ten o'clock strike successively. At teno'clock the sentinels were relieved; Mary Stuart heard the patrols passbeneath her windows, the steps of the watch recede: then all returned tosilence. Half an hour passed away thus; suddenly the owl's cry resoundedthrice, the queen recognised George Douglas's signal: the supreme momenthad come. 

In these circumstances the queen found all her strength revive: shesigned to Mary Seyton to take away the bar and to fix the rope ladder, while, putting out the lamp, she felt her way into the bedroom to seekthe casket which contained her few remaining jewels. When she came back, George Douglas was already in the room. 

"All goes well, madam, " said he. "Your friends await you on the otherside of the lake, Thomas Warden watches at the postern, and God has sentus a dark night. "

The queen, without replying, gave him her hand. George bent his knee andcarried this hand to his lips; but on touching it, he felt it cold andtrembling. 

"Madam, " said he, "in Heaven's name summon all your courage, and do notlet yourself be downcast at such a moment. "

"Our Lady-of-Good-Help, " murmured Seyton, "come to our aid!"

"Summon to you the spirit of the kings your ancestors, " respondedGeorge, "for at this moment it is not the resignation of a Christianthat you require, but the strength and resolution of a queen. "

"Oh, Douglas! Douglas, " cried Mary mournfully, "a fortune-tellerpredicted to me that I should die in prison and by a violent death: hasnot the hour of the prediction arrived?"

"Perhaps, " George said, "but it is better to die as a queen than to livein this ancient castle calumniated and a prisoner. "

"You are right, George, " the queen answered; "but for a woman the firststep is everything: forgive me". Then, after a moment's pause, "Come, "said she; "I am ready. "

George immediately went to the window, secured the ladder again and morefirmly, then getting up on to the sill and holding to the bars with onehand, he stretched out the other to the queen, who, as resolute as shehad been timid a moment before, mounted on a stool, and had already setone foot on the window-ledge, when suddenly the cry, "Who goes there?"rang out at the foot of the tower. The queen sprang quickly back, partlyinstinctively and partly pushed by George, who, on the contrary, leanedout of the window to see whence came this cry, which, twice againrenewed, remained twice unanswered, and was immediately followed by areport and the flash of a firearm: at the same moment the sentinel onduty on the tower blew his bugle, another set going the alarm bell, and the cries, "To arms, to arms!" and "Treason, treason!" resoundedthroughout the castle. 

"Yes, yes, treason, treason!" cried George Douglas, leaping down intothe room. "Yes, the infamous Warden has betrayed us!" Then, advancingto Mary, cold and motionless as a statue, "Courage, madam, " said he, "courage! Whatever happens, a friend yet remains for you in the castle;it is Little Douglas. "

Scarcely had he finished speaking when the door of the queen's apartmentopened, and William Douglas and Lady Lochleven, preceded by servantscarrying torches and armed soldiers, appeared on the threshold: the roomwas immediately filled with people and light. 

"Mother, " said William Douglas, pointing to his brother standing beforeMary Stuart and protecting her with his body, "do you believe me now?Look!"

The old lady was for a moment speechless; then finding a word at last, and taking a step forward--

"Speak, George Douglas, " cried she, "speak, and clear yourself at onceof the charge which weighs on your honour; say but these words, 'ADouglas was never faithless to his trust, ' and I believe you". 

"Yes, mother, " answered William, "a Douglas!. . . But he--he is not aDouglas. "

"May God grant my old age the strength needed to bear on the part ofone of my sons such a misfortune, and on the part of the other such aninjury!" exclaimed Lady Lochleven. "O woman born under a fatal star, "she went on, addressing the queen, "when will you cease to be, in theDevil's hands, an instrument of perdition and death to all who approachyou? O ancient house of Lochleven, cursed be the hour when thisenchantress crossed thy threshold!"

"Do not say that, mother, do not say that, " cried George; "blessed be, on the contrary, the moment which proves that, if there are Douglaseswho no longer remember what they owe to their sovereigns, there areothers who have never forgotten it. "

"Douglas! Douglas!" murmured Mary Stuart, "did I not tell you?"

"And I, madam, " said George, "what did I reply then? That it was anhonour and a duty to every faithful subject of your Majesty to die foryou. "

"Well, die, then!" cried William Douglas, springing on his brother withraised sword, while he, leaping back, drew his, and with a movementquick as thought and eager as hatred defended himself. But at the samemoment Mary Stuart darted between the two young people. 

"Not another step, Lord Douglas, " said she. "Sheathe your sword, George, or if you use it, let be to go hence, and against everyone but your bother. I still have need of your life; take care of it. "

"My life, like my arm and my honour, is at your service, madam, and fromthe moment you command it I shall preserve it for you. "

With these words, rushing to the door with a violence and resolve whichprevented anyone's stopping him--

"Back!" cried he to the domestics who were barring the passage; "makeway for the young master of Douglas, or woe to you!". 

"Stop him!" cried William. "Seize him, dead or alive! Fire upon him!Kill him like a dog!"

Two or three soldiers, not daring to disobey William, pretended topursue his brother. Then some gunshots were heard, and a voice cryingthat George Douglas had just thrown himself into the lake. 

"And has he then escaped?" cried William. 

Mary Stuart breathed again; the old lady raised her hands to Heaven. 

"Yes, yes, " murmured William, --"yes, thank Heaven for your son's flight;for his flight covers our entire house with shame; counting from thishour, we shall be looked upon as the accomplices of his treason. "

"Have pity on me, William!" cried Lady Lochleven, wringing her hands. "Have compassion o your old mother! See you not that I am dying?"

With these words, she fell backwards, pale and tottering; the stewardand a servant supported er in their arms. 

"I believe, my lord, " said Mary Seyton, coming forward, "that yourmother has as much need of attention just now as the queen has need ofrepose: do you not consider it is time for you to withdraw?"

"Yes, yes, " said William, "to give you time to spin fresh webs, Isuppose, and to seek what fresh flies you can take in them? It is well, go on with your work; but you have just seen that it is not easy todeceive William Douglas. Play your game, I shall play mine". Thenturning to the servants, "Go out, all of you, " said he; "and you, mother, come. "

The servants and the soldiers obeyed; then William Douglas went outlast, supporting Lady Lochleven, and the queen heard him shut behind himand double-lock the two doors of her prison. 

Scarcely was Mary alone, and certain that she was no longer seenor heard, than all her strength deserted her, and, sinking into anarm-chair, she burst out sobbing. 

Indeed, all her courage had been needed to sustain her so far, and thesight of her enemies alone had given her this courage; but hardlyhad they gone than her situation appeared before her in all itsfatal hardship. Dethroned, a prisoner, without another fiend in thisimpregnable castle than a child to whom she had scarce given attention, and who was the sole and last thread attaching her past hopes to herhopes for the future, what remained to Mary Stuart of her two thronesand her double power? Her name, that was all; her, name with which, free, she had doubtless stirred Scotland, but which little by little wasabout to be effaced in the hearts of her adherents, and which during herlifetime oblivion was to cover perhaps as with a shroud. Such anidea was insupportable to a soul as lofty as Mary Stuart's, and toan organisation which, like that of the flowers, has need, beforeeverything, of air, light, and sun. 

Fortunately there remained to her the best beloved of her four Marys, who, always devoted and consoling, hastened to succour and comfort her;but this time it was no easy matter, and the queen let her act and speakwithout answering her otherwise than with sobs and tears; when suddenly, looking through the window to which she had drawn up her mistress'sarmchair--

"The light!" cried she, "madam, the light!"

At the same time she raised the queen, and with arm outstretched fromthe window, she showed her the beacon, the eternal symbol of hope, relighted in the midst of this dark night on Kinross hill: there was nomistake possible, not a star was shining in the sky. 

"Lord God, I give Thee thanks, " said the queen, falling on her kneesand raising her arms to heaven with a gesture of gratitude: "Douglas hasescaped, and my friends still keep watch. "

Then, after a fervent prayer, which restored to her a little strength, the queen re-entered her room, and, tired out by her varied successiveemotions, she slept an uneasy, agitated sleep, over which theindefatigable Mary Seyton kept watch till daybreak. 

As William Douglas had said, from this time forward the queen was aprisoner indeed, and permission to go down into the garden was no longergranted but under the surveillance of two soldiers; but this annoyanceseemed to her so unbearable that she preferred to give up therecreation, which, surrounded with such conditions, became a torture. So she shut herself up in her apartments, finding a certain bitter andhaughty pleasure in the very excess of her misfortune. 

CHAPTER VII

A week after the events we have related, as nine o'clock in the eveninghad just sounded from the castle bell, and the queen and Mary Seytonwere sitting at a table where they were working at their tapestry, astone thrown from the courtyard passed through the window bars, brokea pane of glass, and fell into the room. The queen's first idea wasto believe it accidental or an insult; but Mary Seyton, turning round, noticed that the stone was wrapped up in a paper: she immediately pickedit up. The paper was a letter from George Douglas, conceived in theseterms:

"You have commanded me to live, madam: I have obeyed, and your Majestyhas been able to tell, from the Kinross light, that your servantscontinue to watch over you. However, not to raise suspicion, thesoldiers collected for that fatal night dispersed at dawn, and will notgather again till a fresh attempt makes their presence necessary. But, alas! to renew this attempt now, when your Majesty's gaolers are ontheir guard, would be your ruin. Let them take every precaution, then, madam; let them sleep in security, while we, we, in our devotion, shallgo on watching. 

"Patience and courage!"

"Brave and loyal heart!" cried Mary, "more constantly devoted tomisfortune than others are to prosperity! Yes, I shall have patienceand courage, and so long as that light shines I shall still believe inliberty. "

This letter restored to the queen all her former courage: she had meansof communication with George through Little Douglas; for no doubt itwas he who had thrown that stone. She hastened, in her turn, to write aletter to George, in which she both charged him to express her gratitudeto all the lords who had signed the protestation; and begged them, inthe name of the fidelity they had sworn to her, not to cool in theirdevotion, promising them, for her part, to await the result with thatpatience and courage they asked of her. 

The queen was not mistaken: next day, as she was at her window, LittleDouglas came to play at the foot of the tower, and, without raising hishead, stopped just beneath her to dig a trap to catch birds. The queenlooked to see if she were observed, and assured that that part of thecourtyard was deserted, she let fall the stone wrapped in her letter:at first she feared to have made a serious error; for Little Douglas didnot even turn at the noise, and it was only after a moment, duringwhich the prisoner's heart was torn with frightful anxiety, thatindifferently, and as if he were looking for something else, the childlaid his hand on the stone, and without hurrying, without raising hishead, without indeed giving any sign of intelligence to her who hadthrown it, he put the letter in his pocket, finishing the work he hadbegun with the greatest calm, and showing the queen, by this coolnessbeyond his years, what reliance she could place in him. 

From that moment the queen regained fresh hope; but days, weeks, monthspassed without bringing any change in her situation: winter came; theprisoner saw snow spread over the plains and mountains, and the lakeafforded her, if she had only been able to pass the door, a firm roadto gain the other bank; but no letter came during all this time to bringher the consoling news that they were busy about her deliverance; thefaithful light alone announced to her every evening that a friend waskeeping watch. 

Soon nature awoke from her death-sleep: some forward sun-rays brokethrough the clouds of this sombre sky of Scotland; the snow melted, the lake broke its ice-crust, the first buds opened, the green turfreappeared; everything came out of its prison at the joyous approachof spring, and it was a great grief to Mary to see that she alone wascondemned to an eternal winter. 

At last; one evening, she thought she observed in the motions of thelight that something fresh was happening: she had so often questionedthis poor flickering star, and she had so often let it count herheart-beats more than twenty times, that to spare herself the painof disappointment, for a long time she had no longer interrogated it;however, she resolved to make one last attempt, and, almost hopeless, she put her light near the window, and immediately took it away; still, faithful to the signal, the other disappeared at the same moment, andreappeared at the eleventh heart-beat of the queen. At the same time, bya strange coincidence, a stone passing through the window fell at MarySeyton's feet. It was, like the first, wrapped in a letter from George:the queen took it from her companion's hands, opened it, and read:

"The moment draws near; your adherents are assembled; summon all yourcourage. "

"To-morrow, at eleven o'clock in the evening, drop a cord from yourwindow, and draw up the packet that will be fastened to it. "

There remained in the queen's apartments the rope over and above whathad served for the ladder taken away by the guards the evening of thefrustrated escape: next day, at the appointed hour, the two prisonersshut up the lamp in the bedroom, so that no light should betray them, and Mary Seyton, approaching the window, let down the cord. After aminute, she felt from its movements that something was being attached toit. Mary Seyton pulled, and a rather bulky parcel appeared at the bars, which it could not pass on account of its size. Then the queen cameto her companion's aid. The parcel was untied, and its contents, separately, got through easily. The two prisoners carried them into thebedroom, and, barricaded within, commenced an inventory. There were twocomplete suits of men's clothes in the Douglas livery. The queen was ata loss, when she saw a letter fastened to the collar of one of the twocoats. Eager to know the meaning of this enigma, she immediately openedit, and read as follows:

"It is only by dint of audacity that her Majesty can recover herliberty: let her Majesty read this letter, then, and punctually follow, if she deign to adopt them, the instructions she will find therein. 

"In the daytime the keys of the castle do not leave the belt of the oldsteward; when curfew is rung and he has made his rounds to make surethat all the doors are fast shut, he gives them up to William Douglas, who, if he stays up, fastens them to his sword-belt, or, if he sleeps, puts them under his pillow. For five months, Little Douglas, whomeveryone is accustomed to see working at the armourer's forge of thecastle, has been employed in making some keys like enough to theothers, once they are substituted for them, for William to be deceived. Yesterday Little Douglas finished the last. 

"On the first favourable opportunity that her Majesty will know to beabout to present itself, by carefully questioning the light each day, Little Douglas will exchange the false keys for the true, will enter thequeen's room, and will find her dressed, as well as Miss Mary Seyton, in their men's clothing, and he will go before them to lead them, bythe way which offers the best chances for their escape; a boat will beprepared and will await them. 

"Till then, every evening, as much to accustom themselves to these newcostumes as to give them an appearance of having been worn, her Majestyand Miss Mary Seyton will dress themselves in the suits, which they mustkeep on from nine o'clock till midnight. Besides, it is possible that, without having had time to warn them, their young guide may suddenlycome to seek them: it is urgent, then, that he find them ready. 

"The garments ought to fit perfectly her Majesty and her companion, themeasure having been taken on Miss Mary Fleming and Miss Mary Livingston, who are exactly their size. 

"One cannot too strongly recommend her Majesty to summon to her aid onthe supreme occasion the coolness and courage of which she has givensuch frequent proofs at other times. "

The two prisoners were astounded at the boldness of this plan: atfirst they looked at one another in consternation, for success seemedimpossible. They none the less made trial of their disguise: as Georgehad said, it fitted each of them as if they had been measured for it. 

Every evening the queen questioned the light, as George had urged, andthat for a whole long month, during which each evening the queenand Mary Seyton, although the light gave no fresh tidings, arrayedthemselves in their men's clothes, as had been arranged, so that theyboth acquired such practice that they became as familiar to them asthose of their own sex. 

At last, the 2nd May, 1568, the queen was awakened by the blowing of ahorn: uneasy as to what it announced, she slipped on a cloak and ranto the window, where Mary Seyton joined her directly. A rather numerousband of horsemen had halted on the side of the lake, displaying theDouglas pennon, and three boats were rowing together and vying with eachother to fetch the new arrivals. 

This event caused the queen dismay: in her situation the least changein the castle routine was to be feared, for it might upset all theconcerted plans. This apprehension redoubled when, on the boats drawingnear, the queen recognised in the elder Lord Douglas, the husband ofLady Lochleven, and the father of William and George. The venerableknight, who was Keeper of the Marches in the north, was coming to visithis ancient manor, in which he had not set foot for three years. 

It was an event for Lochleven; and, some minutes after the arrival ofthe boats, Mary Stuart heard the old steward's footsteps mounting thestairs: he came to announce his master's arrival to the queen, and, asit must needs be a time of rejoicing to all the castle inhabitantswhen its master returned, he came to invite the queen to the dinner incelebration of the event: whether instinctively or from distaste, thequeen declined. 

All day long the bell and the bugle resounded: Lord Douglas, like a truefeudal lord, travelled with the retinue of a prince. One saw nothingbut new soldiers and servants passing and repassing beneath the queen'swindows: the footmen and horsemen were wearing, moreover, a liverysimilar to that which the queen and Mary Seyton had received. 

Mary awaited the night with impatience. The day before, she hadquestioned her light, and it had informed her as usual, in reappearingat her eleventh or twelfth heart-beat, that the moment of escape wasnear; but she greatly feared that Lord Douglas's arrival might haveupset everything, and that this evening's signal could only announce apostponement. But hardly had she seen the light shine than she placedher lamp in the window; the other disappeared directly, and Mary Stuart, with terrible anxiety, began to question it. This anxiety increased whenshe had counted more than fifteen beats. Then she stopped, cast down, her eyes mechanically fixed on the spot where the light had been. Buther astonishment was great when, at the end of a few minutes, she didnot see it reappear, and when, half an hour having elapsed, everythingremained in darkness. The queen then renewed her signal, but obtained noresponse: the escape was for the same evening. 

The queen and Mary Seyton were so little expecting this issue, that, contrary to their custom, they had not put on their men's clothes thatevening. They immediately flew to the queen's bed-chamber, bolted thedoor behind them, and began to dress. 

They had hardly finished their hurried toilette when they heard akey turn in the lock: they immediately blew out the lamp. Light stepsapproached the door. The two women leaned one against the other; forthey both were near falling. Someone tapped gently. The queen asked whowas there, and Little Douglas's voice answered in the two first lines ofan old ballad--

"Douglas, Douglas, Tender and true. "

Mary opened, directly: it was the watchword agreed upon with GeorgeDouglas. 

The child was without a light. He stretched out his hand and encounteredthe queen's: in the starlight, Mary Stuart saw him kneel down; then shefelt the imprint of his lips on her fingers. 

"Is your Majesty ready to follow me?" he asked in a low tone, rising. 

"Yes, my child, " the queen answered: "it is for this evening, then?"

"With your Majesty's permission, yes, it is for this evening. "

"Is everything ready?"

"Everything. "

"What are we to do?"

"Follow me everywhere. "

"My God! my God!" cried Mary Stuart, "have pity on us!" Then, havingbreathed a short prayer in a low voice, while Mary Seyton was taking thecasket in which were the queen's jewels, "I am ready, " said she: "andyou, darling?"

"I also, " replied Mary Seyton. 

"Come, then, " said Little Douglas. 

The two prisoners followed the child; the queen going first, and MarySeyton after. Their youthful guide carefully shut again the door behindhim, so that if a warder happened to pass he would see nothing; thenhe began to descend the winding stair. Half-way down, the noise of thefeast reached them, a mingling of shouts of laughter, the confusion ofvoices, and the clinking of glasses. The queen placed her hand on heryoung guide's shoulder. 

"Where are you leading us?" she asked him with terror. 

"Out of the castle, " replied the child. 

"But we shall have to pass through the great hall?"

"Without a doubt; and that is exactly what George foresaw. Among thefootmen, whose livery your Majesty is wearing, no one will recogniseyou. "

"My God! my God!" the queen murmured, leaning against the wall. 

"Courage, madam, " said Mary Seyton in a low voice, "or we are lost. "

"You are right, " returned the queen; "let us go". And they started againstill led by their guide. 

At the foot of the stair he stopped, and giving the queen a stonepitcher full of wine--

"Set this jug on your right shoulder, madam, " said he; "it will hideyour face from the guests, and your Majesty will give rise to lesssuspicion if carrying something. You, Miss Mary, give me that casket, and put on your head this basket of bread. Now, that's right: do youfeel you have strength?"

"Yes, " said the queen. 

"Yes, " said Mary Seyton. 

"Then follow me. "

The child went on his way, and after a few steps the fugitives foundthemselves in a kind of antechamber to the great hall, from whichproceeded noise and light. Several servants were occupied there withdifferent duties; not one paid attention to them, and that a littlereassured the queen. Besides, there was no longer any drawing back:Little Douglas had just entered the great hall. 

The guests, seated on both sides of a long table ranged according to therank of those assembled at it, were beginning dessert, and consequentlyhad reached the gayest moment of the repast. Moreover, the hall was solarge that the lamps and candles which lighted it, multiplied asthey were, left in the most favourable half-light both sides of theapartment, in which fifteen or twenty servants were coming and going. The queen and Mary Seyton mingled with this crowd, which was too muchoccupied to notice them, and without stopping, without slackening, without looking back, they crossed the whole length of the hall, reachedthe other door, and found themselves in the vestibule corresponding tothe one they had passed through on coming in. The queen set down her jugthere, Mary Seyton her basket, and both, still led by the child, entereda corridor at the end of which they found themselves in the courtyard. Apatrol was passing at the moment, but he took no notice of them. 

The child made his way towards the garden, still followed by the twowomen. There, for no little while, it was necessary to try which of allthe keys opened the door; it--was a time of inexpressible anxiety. Atlast the key turned in the lock, the door opened; the queen and MarySeyton rushed into the garden. The child closed the door behind them. 

About two-thirds of the way across, Little Douglas held out his hand asa sign to them to stop; then, putting down the casket and the keys onthe ground, he placed his hands together, and blowing into them, thriceimitated the owl's cry so well that it was impossible to believe that ahuman voice was uttering the sounds; then, picking up the casket and thekeys, he kept on his way on tiptoe and with an attentive ear. On gettingnear the wall, they again stopped, and after a moment's anxious waitingthey heard a groan, then something like the sound of a falling body. Some seconds later the owl's cry was--answered by a tu-whit-tu-whoo. 

"It is over, " Little Douglas said calmly; "come. "

"What is over?" asked the queen; "and what is that groan we heard?"

"There was a sentry at the door on to the lake, " the child answered, "but he is no longer there. "

The queen felt her heart's blood grow cold, at the same tine that achilly sweat broke out to the roots of her hair; for she perfectlyunderstood: an unfortunate being had just lost his life on her account. Tottering, she leaned on Mary Seyton, who herself felt her strengthgiving way. Meanwhile Little Douglas was trying the keys: the secondopened the door. 

"And the queen?" said in a low voice a man who was waiting on the otherside of the wall. 

"She is following me, " replied the child. 

George Douglas, for it was he, sprang into the garden, and, taking thequeen's arm on one side and Mary Seyton's on the other, he hurried themaway quickly to the lake-side. When passing through the doorway MaryStuart could not help throwing an uneasy look about her, and it seemedto her that a shapeless object was lying at the bottom of the wall, andas she was shuddering all over. 

"Do not pity him, " said George in a low voice, "for it is a judgmentfrom heaven. That man was the infamous Warden who betrayed us. "

"Alas!" said the queen, "guilty as he was, he is none the less dead onmy account. "

"When it concerned your safety, madam, was one to haggle over drops ofthat base blood? But silence! This way, William, this way; let us keepalong the wall, whose shadow hides us. The boat is within twenty steps, and we are saved. "

With these words, George hurried on the two women still more quickly, and all four, without having been detected, reached the banks of thelake. 'As Douglas had said, a little boat was waiting; and, on seeingthe fugitives approach, four rowers, couched along its bottom, rose, andone of them, springing to land, pulled the chain, so that the queen andMary Seyton could get in. Douglas seated them at the prow, the childplaced himself at the rudder, and George, with a kick, pushed off theboat, which began to glide over the lake. 

"And now, " said he, "we are really saved; for they might as well pursuea sea swallow on Solway Firth as try to reach us. Row, children, row;never mind if they hear us: the main thing is to get into the open. "

"Who goes there?" cried a voice above, from the castle terrace. 

"Row, row, " said Douglas, placing himself in front of the queen. 

"The boat! the boat!" cried the same voice; "bring to the boat!" Then, seeing that it continued to recede, "Treason! treason!" cried thesentinel. "To arms!"

At the same moment a flash lit up the lake; the report of a firearm washeard, and a ball passed, whistling. The queen uttered a little cry, although she had run no danger, George, as we have said, having placedhimself in front of her, quite protecting her with his body. 

The alarm bell now rang, and all the castle lights were seen moving andglancing about, as if distracted, in the rooms. 

"Courage, children!" said Douglas. "Row as if your lives depended oneach stroke of the oar; for ere five minutes the skiff will be out afterus. "

"That won't be so easy for them as you think, George, " said LittleDouglas; "for I shut all the doors behind me, and some time will elapsebefore the keys that I have left there open them. As to these, " addedhe, showing those he had so skilfully abstracted, "I resign them to theKelpie, the genie of the lake, and I nominate him porter of LochlevenCastle. "

The discharge of a small piece of artillery answered William's joke;but as the night was too dark for one to aim to such a distance as thatalready between the castle and the boat, the ball ricochetted at twentypaces from the fugitives, while the report died away in echo after echo. Then Douglas drew his pistol from his belt, and, warning the ladies tohave no fear, he fired in the air, not to answer by idle bravado thecastle cannonade, but to give notice to a troop of faithful friends, whowere waiting for them on the other shore of the lake, that the queen hadescaped. Immediately, in spite of the danger of being so near Kinross, cries of joy resounded on the bank, and William having turned therudder, the boat made for land at the spot whence they had been heard. Douglas then gave his hand to the queen, who sprang lightly ashore, andwho, falling on her knees, immediately began to give thanks to God forher happy deliverance. 

On rising, the queen found herself surrounded by her most faithfulservants--Hamilton, Herries, and Seyton, Mary's father. Light-headedwith joy, the queen extended her hands to them, thanking them withbroken words, which expressed her intoxication and her gratitude betterthan the choicest phrases could have done, when suddenly, turning round, she perceived George Douglas, alone and melancholy. Then, going to himand taking him by the hand--

"My lords, " said she, presenting George to them, and pointing toWilliam, "behold my two deliverers: behold those to whom, as long as Ilive, I shall preserve gratitude of which nothing will ever acquit me. "

"Madam, " said Douglas, "each of us has only done what he ought, and hewho has risked most is the happiest. But if your Majesty will believeme, you will not lose a moment in needless words. "

"Douglas is right, " said Lord Seyton. "To horse! to horse!"

Immediately, and while four couriers set out in four differentdirections to announce to the queen's friends her happy escape, theybrought her a horse saddled for her, which she mounted with her usualskill; then the little troop, which, composed of about twenty persons, was escorting the future destiny of Scotland, keeping away from thevillage of Kinross, to which the castle firing had doubtless given thealarm, took at a gallop the road to Seyton's castle, where was already agarrison large enough to defend the queen from a sudden attack. 

The queen journeyed all night, accompanied on one side by Douglas, onthe other by Lord Seyton; then, at daybreak, they stopped at the gate ofthe castle of West Niddrie, belonging to Lord Seyton, as we have said, and situated in West Lothian. Douglas sprang from his horse to offer hishand to Mary Stuart; but Lord Seyton claimed his privilege as masterof the house. The queen consoled Douglas with a glance, and entered thefortress. 

"Madam, " said Lord Seyton, leading her into a room prepared for her fornine months, "your Majesty must have need of repose, after the fatigueand the emotions you have gone through since yesterday morning; you maysleep here in peace, and disquiet yourself for nothing: any noiseyou may hear will be made by a reinforcement of friends which we areexpecting. As to our enemies, your Majesty has nothing to fear from themso long as you inhabit the castle of a Seyton. "

The queen again thanked all her deliverers, gave her hand to Douglas tokiss one last time, kissed Little William on the forehead, and named himher favourite page for the future; then, profiting by the advice givenher, entered her room where Mary Seyton, to the exclusion of every otherwoman, claimed the privilege of performing about her the duties withwhich she had been charged during their eleven months' captivity inLochleven Castle. 

On opening her eyes, Mary Stuart thought she had had one of those dreamsso gainful to prisoners, when waking they see again the bolts on theirdoors and the bars on their windows. So the queen, unable to believe theevidence of her senses, ran, half dressed, to the window. The courtyardwas filled with soldiers, and these soldiers all friends who hadhastened at the news of her escape; she recognised the banners of herfaithful friends, the Seytons, the Arbroaths, the Herries, and theHamiltons, and scarcely had she been seen at the window than all thesebanners bent before her, with the shouts a hundred times repeated of"Long live Mary of Scotland! Long live our queen!" Then, without givingheed to the disarray of her toilet, lovely and chaste with her emotionand her happiness, she greeted them in her turn, her eyes full of tears;but this time they were tears of joy. However, the queen recollectedthat she was barely covered, and blushing at having allowed herself tobe thus carried away in her ecstasy, she abruptly drew back, quite rosywith confusion. 

Then she had an instant's womanly fright: she had fled from LochlevenCastle in the Douglas livery, and without either the leisure or theopportunity for taking women's clothes with her. But she could notremain attired as a man; so she explained her uneasiness to Mary Seyton, who responded by opening the closets in the queen's room. They werefurnished, not only with robes, the measure for which, like that ofthe suit, had been taken from Mary Fleming, but also with all thenecessaries for a woman's toilet. The queen was astonished: it was likebeing in a fairy castle. 

"Mignonne, " said she, looking one after another at the robes, all thestuffs of which were chosen with exquisite taste, "I knew your fatherwas a brave and loyal knight, but I did not think him so learned in thematter of the toilet. We shall name him groom of the wardrobe. "

"Alas! madam, " smilingly replied Mary Seyton, "you are not mistaken:my father has had everything in the castle furbished up to the lastcorselet, sharpened to the last sword, unfurled to the last banner;but my father, ready as he is to die for your Majesty, would not havedreamed for an instant of offering you anything but his roof to restunder, or his cloak to cover you. It is Douglas again who has foreseeneverything, prepared everything--everything even to Rosabelle, yourMajesty's favourite steed, which is impatiently awaiting in the stablethe moment when, mounted on her, your Majesty will make your triumphalre-entry into Edinburgh. "

"And how has he been able to get her back again?" Mary asked. "I thoughtthat in the division of my spoils Rosabelle had fallen to the fairAlice, my brother's favourite sultana?"

"Yes, yes, " said Mary Seyton, "it was so; and as her value was known, she was kept under lock and key by an army of grooms; but Douglas isthe man of miracles, and, as I have told you, Rosabelle awaits yourMajesty. "

"Noble Douglas!" murmured the queen, with eyes full of tears; then, asif speaking to herself, "And this is precisely one of those devotionsthat we can never repay. The others will be happy with honours, places, money; but to Douglas what matter all these things?"

"Come, madam, come, " said Mary Seyton, "God takes on Himself the debtsof kings; He will reward Douglas. As to your Majesty, reflect that theyare waiting dinner for you. I hope, " added she, smiling, "that you willnot affront my father as you did Lord Douglas yesterday in refusing topartake of his feast on his fortunate home-coming. "

"And luck has come to me for it, I hope, " replied Mary. "But you areright, darling: no more sad thoughts; we will consider when we haveindeed become queen again what we can do for Douglas. "

The queen dressed and went down. As Mary Seyton had told her, the chiefnoblemen of her party, already gathered round her, were waiting forher in the great hall of the castle. Her arrival was greeted withacclamations of the liveliest enthusiasm, and she sat down to table, with Lord Seyton on her right hand, Douglas on her left, and behind herLittle William, who the same day was beginning his duties as page. 

Next morning the queen was awakened by the sound of trumpets and bugles:it had been decided the day before that she should set out that dayfor Hamilton, where reinforcements were looked for. The queen donned anelegant riding-habit, and soon, mounted on Rosabelle, appeared amid herdefenders. The shouts of joy redoubled: her beauty, her grace, and hercourage were admired by everyone. Mary Stuart became her own self oncemore, and she felt spring up in her again the power of fascination shehad always exercised on those who came near her. Everyone was in goodhumour, and the happiest of all was perhaps Little William, who for thefirst time in his life had such a fine dress and such a fine horse. 

Two or three thousand men were awaiting the queen at Hamilton, which shereached the same evening; and during the night following her arrivalthe troops increased to six thousand. The 2nd of May she was a prisoner, without another friend but a child in her prison, without other means ofcommunication with her adherents than the flickering and uncertain lightof a lamp, and three days afterwards--that is to say, between the Sundayand the Wednesday--she found herself not only free, but also at the headof a powerful confederacy, which counted at its head nine earls, eightpeers, nine bishops, and a number of barons and nobles renowned amongthe bravest of Scotland. 

The advice of the most judicious among those about the queen was to shutherself up in the strong castle of Dumbarton, which, being impregnable, would give all her adherents time to assemble together, distant andscattered as they were: accordingly, the guidance of the troops who wereto conduct the queen to that town was entrusted to the Earl of Argyll, and the 11th of May she took the road with an army of nearly tenthousand men. 

Murray was at Glasgow when he heard of the queen's escape: the place wasstrong; he decided to hold it, and summoned to him his bravest and mostdevoted partisans. Kirkcaldy of Grange, Morton, Lindsay of Byres, LordLochleven, and William Douglas hastened to him, and six thousand of thebest troops in the kingdom gathered round them, while Lord Ruthven inthe counties of Berwick and Angus raised levies with which to join them. 

The 13th May, Morton occupied from daybreak the village of Langside, through which the queen must pass to get to Dumbarton. The news of theoccupation reached the queen as the two armies were yet seven milesapart. Mary's first instinct was to escape an engagement: she rememberedher last battle at Carberry Hill, at the end of which she had beenseparated from Bothwell and brought to Edinburgh; so she expressedaloud this opinion, which was supported by George Douglas, who, in blackarmour, without other arms, had continued at the queen's side. 

"Avoid an engagement!" cried Lord Seyton, not daring to answer hissovereign, and replying to George as if this opinion had originatedwith him. "We could do it, perhaps, if we were one to ten; but weshall certainly not do so when we are three to two. You speak a strangetongue, my young master, " continued he, with some contempt; "and youforget, it seems to me, that you are a Douglas and that you speak to aSeyton. "

"My lord, " returned George calmly, "when we only hazard the lives ofDouglases and Seytons, you will find me, I hope, as ready to fight asyou, be it one to ten, be it three to two; but we are now answerable foran existence dearer to Scotland than that of all the Seytons and all theDouglases. My advice is then to avoid battle. "

"Battle! battle!" cried all the chieftains. 

"You hear, madam?" said Lord Seyton to Mary Stuart: "I believe thatto wish to act against such unanimity would be dangerous. In Scotland, madam, there is an ancient proverb which has it that 'there is mostprudence in courage. '"

"But have you not heard that the regent has taken up an advantageousposition?" the queen said. 

"The greyhound hunts the hare on the hillside as well as in the plain, "replied Seyton: "we will drive him out, wherever he is. "

"Let it be as you desire, then, my lords. It shall not be said that MaryStuart returned to the scabbard the sword her defenders had drawn forher. "

Then, turning round to Douglas

"George, " she said to him, "choose a guard of twenty men for me, andtake command of them: you will not quit me. "

George bent low in obedience, chose twenty from among the bravest men, placed the queen in their midst, and put himself at their head; then thetroops, which had halted, received the order to continue their road. Intwo hours' time the advance guard was in sight of the enemy; it halted, and the rest of the army rejoined it. 

The queen's troops then found themselves parallel with the city ofGlasgow, and the heights which rose in front of them were alreadyoccupied by a force above which floated, as above that of Mary, theroyal banners of Scotland, On the other side, and on the oppositeslope, stretched the village of Langside, encircled with enclosures andgardens. The road which led to it, and which followed all the variationsof the ground, narrowed at one place in such a way that two men couldhardly pass abreast, then, farther on, lost itself in a ravine, beyondwhich it reappeared, then branched into two, of which one climbed to thevillage of Langside, while the other led to Glasgow. 

On seeing the lie of the ground, the Earl of Argyll immediatelycomprehended the importance of occupying this village, and, turning toLord Seyton, he ordered him to gallop off and try to arrive therebefore the enemy, who doubtless, having made the same observation as thecommander of the royal forces, was setting in motion at that very momenta considerable body of cavalry. 

Lord Seyton called up his men directly, but while he was ranging themround his banner, Lord Arbroath drew his sword, and approaching the Earlof Argyll--

"My lord, " said he, "you do me a wrong in charging Lord Seyton toseize that post: as commander of the vanguard, it is to me this honourbelongs. Allow me, then, to use my privilege in claiming it. "

"It is I who received the order to seize it; I will seize it!" criedSeyton. 

"Perhaps, " returned Lord Arbroath, "but not before me!"

"Before you and before every Hamilton in the world!" exclaimed Seyton, putting his horse to the gallop and rushing down into the hollow road--

"Saint Bennet! and forward!"

"Come, my faithful kinsmen!" cried Lord Arbroath, dashing forward onhis side with the same object; "come, my men-at-arms! For God and thequeen!"

The two troops precipitated themselves immediately in disorder and ranagainst one another in the narrow way, where, as we have said, two mencould hardly pass abreast. There was a terrible collision there, andthe conflict began among friends who should have been united against theenemy. Finally, the two troops, leaving behind them some corpses stifledin the press, or even killed by their companions, passed through thedefile pell-mell and were lost sight of in the ravine. But during thisstruggle Seyton and Arbroath had lost precious time, and the detachmentsent by Murray, which had taken the road by Glasgow, had reached thevillage beforehand; it was now necessary not to take it, but to retakeit. 

Argyll saw that the whole day's struggle would be concentrated there, and, understanding more and more the importance of the village, immediately put himself at the head of the body of his army, commandinga rearguard of two thousand men to remain there and await further ordersto take part in the fighting. But whether the captain who commanded themhad ill understood, or whether he was eager to distinguish himself inthe eyes of the queen, scarcely had Argyll vanished into the ravine, atthe end of which the struggle had already commenced between Kirkcaldy ofGrange and Morton on the one side, and on the other between Arbroath andSeyton, than, without regarding the cries of Mary Stuart, he set offin his turn at a gallop, leaving the queen without other guard than thelittle escort of twenty men which Douglas had chosen for her. Douglassighed. 

"Alas!" said the queen, hearing him, "I am not a soldier, but there itseems to me is a battle very badly begun. "

"What is to be done?" replied Douglas. "We are every one of usinfatuated, from first to last, and all these men are behaving to-daylike madmen or children. "

"Victory! victory!" said the queen; "the enemy is retreating, fighting. I see the banners of Seyton and Arbroath floating near the first housesin the village. Oh! my brave lords, " cried she, clapping her hands. "Victory! victory!"

But she stopped suddenly on perceiving a body of the enemy's armyadvancing to charge the victors in flank. 

"It is nothing, it is nothing, " said Douglas; "so long as there is onlycavalry we have nothing much to fear, and besides the Earl of Argyllwill fall in in time to aid them. "

"George, " said Little William. 

"Well?" asked Douglas. 

"Don't you see?" the child went on, stretching out his arms towards theenemy's force, which was coming on at a gallop. 

"What?"

"Each horseman carries a footman armed with an arquebuse behind him, sothat the troop is twice as numerous as it appears. "

"That's true; upon my soul, the child has good sight. Let someone go atonce full gallop and take news of this to the Earl or Argyll. "

"I! I!" cried Little William. "I saw them first; it is my right to bearthe tidings. "

"Go, then, my child, " said Douglas; "and may God preserve thee!"

The child flew, quick as lightning, not hearing or feigning not to hearthe queen, who was recalling him. He was seen to cross the gorge andplunge into the hollow road at the moment when Argyll was debouchingat the end and coming to the aid of Seyton and Arbroath. Meanwhile, the enemy's detachment had dismounted its infantry, which, immediatelyformed up, was scattering on the sides of the ravine by pathsimpracticable for horses. 

"William will come too late!" cried Douglas, "or even, should he arrivein time, the news is now useless to them. Oh madmen, madmen that we are!This is how we have always lost all our battles!"

"Is the battle lost, then?" demanded Mary, growing pale. 

"No, madam, no, " cried Douglas; "Heaven be thanked, not yet; but throughtoo great haste we have begun badly. "

"And William?" said Mary Stuart. 

"He is now serving his apprenticeship in arms; for, if I am notmistaken, he must be at this moment at the very spot where thosemarksmen are making such quick firing. "

"Poor child!" cried the queen; "if ill should befall him, I shall neverconsole myself. "

"Alas! madam, " replied Douglas, "I greatly fear that his first battleis his last, and that everything is already over for him; for, unless Imistake, there is his horse returning riderless. "

"Oh, my God! my God!" said the queen, weeping, and raising her hands toheaven, "it is then decreed that I should be fatal to all around me!"

George was not deceived: it was William's horse coming back without hisyoung master and covered with blood. 

"Madam, " said Douglas, "we are ill placed here; let us gain that hillockon which is the Castle of Crookstone: from thence we shall survey thewhole battlefield. "

"No, not there! not there!" said the queen in terror: "within thatcastle I came to spend the first days of my marriage with Darnley; itwill bring me misfortune. "

"Well, beneath that yew-tree, then, " said George, pointing to anotherslight rise near the first; "but it is important for us to lose nodetail of this engagement. Everything depends perhaps for your Majestyon an ill-judged manoeuvre or a lost moment. "

"Guide me, then, " the queen said; "for, as for me, I no longer seeit. Each report of that terrible cannonade echoes to the depths of myheart. "

However well placed as was this eminence for overlooking from its summitthe whole battlefield, the reiterated discharge of cannon and musketrycovered it with such a cloud of smoke that it was impossible to make outfrom it anything but masses lost amid a murderous fog. At last, when anhour had passed in this desperate conflict, through the skirts of thissea of smoke the fugitives were seen to emerge and disperse in alldirections, followed by the victors. Only, at that distance, it wasimpossible to make out who had gained or lost the battle, and thebanners, which on both sides displayed the Scottish arms, could in noway clear up this confusion. 

At that moment there was seen coming down from the Glasgow hillsides allthe remaining reserve of Murray's army; it was coming at full speed toengage in the fighting; but this manoeuvre might equally well have forits object the support of defeated friends as to complete the rout ofthe enemy. However, soon there was no longer any doubt; for this reservecharged the fugitives, amid whom it spread fresh confusion. The queen'sarmy was beaten. At the same time, three or four horsemen appeared onthe hither side of the ravine, advancing at a gallop. Douglas recognisedthem as enemies. 

"Fly, madam, " cried George, "fly without loss of a second; for those whoare coming upon us are followed by others. Gain the road, while I go tocheck them. And you, " added he, addressing the escort, "be killed to thelast man rather than let them take your queen. "

"George! George!" cried the queen, motionless, and as if riveted to thespot. 

But George had already dashed away with all his horse's speed, and ashe was splendidly mounted, he flew across the space with lightningrapidity, and reached the gorge before the enemy. There he stopped, puthis lance in rest, and alone against five bravely awaited the encounter. 

As to the queen, she had no desire to go; but, on the contrary, as ifturned to stone, she remained in the same place, her eyes fastened onthis combat which was taking place at scarcely five hundred paces fromher. Suddenly, glancing at her enemies, she saw that one of them borein the middle of his shield a bleeding heart, the Douglas arms. Then sheuttered a cry of pain, and drooping her head--

"Douglas against Douglas; brother against brother!" she murmured: "itonly wanted this last blow. "

"Madam, madam, " cried her escort, "there is not an instant to lose: theyoung master of Douglas cannot hold out long thus alone against five;let us fly! let us fly!" And two of them taking the queen's horse by thebridle, put it to the gallop, at the moment when George, after havingbeaten down two of his enemies and wounded a third, was thrown down inhis turn in the dust, thrust to the heart by a lance-head. The queengroaned on seeing him fall; then, as if he alone had detained her, andas if he being killed she had no interest in anything else, she putRosabelle to the gallop, and as she and her troop were splendidlymounted, they had soon lost sight of the battlefield. 

She fled thus for sixty miles, without taking any rest, and withoutceasing to weep or to sigh: at last, having traversed the counties ofRenfrew and Ayr, she reached the Abbey of Dundrennan, in Galloway, andcertain of being, for the time at least, sheltered from every danger, she gave the order to stop. The prior respectfully received her at thegate of the convent. 

"I bring you misfortune and ruin, father, " said the queen, alightingfrom her horse. 

"They are welcome, " replied the prior, "since they come accompanied byduty. "

The queen gave Rosabelle to the care of one of the men-at-arms who hadaccompanied her, and leaning on Mary Seyton, who had not left her fora moment, and on Lord Herries, who had rejoined her on the road, sheentered the convent. 

Lord Herries had not concealed her position from Mary Stuart: the dayhad been completely lost, and with the day, at least for the present, all hope of reascending the throne of Scotland. There remained but threecourses for the queen to take to withdraw into France, Spain or England. On the advice of Lord Herries, which accorded with her own feeling, shedecided upon the last; and that same night she wrote this double missivein verse and in prose to Elizabeth:

"MY DEAR SISTER, --I have often enough begged you to receive mytempest-tossed vessel into your haven during the storm. If at this passshe finds a safe harbour there, I shall cast anchor there for ever:otherwise the bark is in God's keeping, for she is ready and caulked fordefence on her voyage against all storms. I have dealt openly with you, and still do so: do not take it in bad part if I write thus; it is notin defiance of you, as it appears, for in everything I rely on yourfriendship. "

"This sonnet accompanied the letter:--

"One thought alone brings danger and delight; Bitter and sweet changeplaces in my heart, With doubt, and then with hope, it takes its part, Till peace and rest alike are put to flight. 

"Therefore, dear sister, if this card pursue That keen desire by whichI am oppressed, To see you, 'tis because I live distressed, Unless someswift and sweet result ensue. 

"Beheld I have my ship compelled by fate To seek the open sea, whenclose to port, And calmest days break into storm and gale; Whereforefull grieved and fearful is my state, Not for your sake, but since, inevil sort, Fortune so oft snaps strongest rope and sail. "

Elizabeth trembled with joy at receiving this double letter; for theeight years that her enmity had been daily increasing to Mary Stuart, she had followed her with her eyes continually, as a wolf might agazelle; at last the gazelle sought refuge in the wolf's den. Elizabethhad never hoped as much: she immediately despatched an order to theSheriff of Cumberland to make known to Mary that she was ready toreceive her. One morning a bugle was heard blowing on the sea-shore: itwas Queen Elizabeth's envoy come to fetch Queen Mary Stuart. 

Then arose great entreaties to the fugitive not to trust herself thus toa rival in power, glory, and beauty; but the poor dispossessed queenwas full of confidence in her she called her good sister, and believedherself going, free and rid of care, to take at Elizabeth's court theplace due to her rank and her misfortunes: thus she persisted, inspite of all that could be said. In our time, we have seen the sameinfatuation seize another royal fugitive, who like Mary Stuart confidedhimself to the generosity of his enemy England: like Mary Stuart, he wascruelly punished for his confidence, and found in the deadly climate ofSt. Helena the scaffold of Fotheringay. 

Mary Stuart set out on her journey, then, with her little following. Arrived at the shore of Solway Firth, she found there the Warden ofthe English Marches: he was a gentleman named Lowther, who received thequeen with the greatest respect, but who gave her to understand thathe could not permit more than three of her women to accompany her. MarySeyton immediately claimed her privilege: the queen held out to her herhand. 

"Alas! mignonne, " said she, "but it might well be another's turn: youhave already suffered enough for me and with me. "

But Mary, unable to reply, clung to her hand, making a sign with herhead that nothing in the world should part her from her mistress. Thenall who had accompanied the queen renewed their entreaties that sheshould not persist in this fatal resolve, and when she was already athird of the way along the plank placed for her to enter the skiff, the Prior of Dundrennan, who had offered Mary Stuart such dangerousand touching hospitality, entered the water up to his knees, to try todetain her; but all was useless: the queen had made up her mind. 

At that, moment Lowther approached her. "Madam, " said he, "accept anewmy regrets that I cannot offer a warm welcome in England to all whowould wish to follow you there; but our queen has given us positiveorders, and we must carry them out. May I be permitted to remind yourMajesty that the tide serves?"

"Positive orders!" cried the prior. "Do you hear, madam? Oh! you arelost if you quit this shore! Back, while there is yet time! Back; madam, in Heaven's name! To me, sir knights, to me!" he cried, turning to LordHerries and the other lords who had accompanied Mary Stuart; "do notallow your queen to abandon you, were it needful to struggle with herand the English at the same time. Hold her back, my lords, in Heaven'sname! withhold her!"

"What means this violence, sir priest?" said the Warden of the Marches. "I came here at your queen's express command; she is free to return toyou, and there is no need to have recourse to force for that". Then, addressing the queen--

"Madam, " said he, "do you consent to follow me into England in fullliberty of choice? Answer, I entreat you; for my honour demands that thewhole world should be aware that you have followed me freely. "

"Sir, " replied Mary Stuart, "I ask your pardon, in the name of thisworthy servant of God and his queen, for what he may have said ofoffence to you. Freely I leave Scotland and place myself in your hands, trusting that I shall be free either to remain in England with my royalsister, or to return to France to my worthy relatives". Then, turning tothe priest, "Your blessing, father, and God protect you!"

"Alas! alas!" murmured the abbot, obeying the queen, "it is not we whoare in need of God's protection, but rather you, my daughter. May theblessing of a poor priest turn aside from you the misfortunes I foresee!Go, and may it be with you as the Lord has ordained in His wisdom and inHis mercy!"

Then the queen gave her hand to the sheriff, who conducted her to theskiff, followed by Mary Seyton and two other women only. The sails wereimmediately unfurled, and the little vessel began to recede from theshores of Galloway, to make her way towards those of Cumberland. So longas it could be seen, they who had accompanied the queen lingered on thebeach, waving her signs of adieu, which, standing on the deck of theshallop which was bearing her, away, she returned with her handkerchief. Finally, the boat disappeared, and all burst into lamentations orinto sobbing. They were right, for the good Prior of Dundrennan'spresentiments were only too true, and they had seen Mary Stuart for thelast time. 

CHAPTER VIII

On landing on the shores of England, the Queen of Scotland foundmessengers from Elizabeth empowered to express to her all the regrettheir mistress felt in being unable to admit her to her presence, or togive her the affectionate welcome she bore her in her heart. But it wasessential, they added, that first of all the queen should clear herselfof the death of Darnley, whose family, being subjects of the Queen ofEngland, had a right to her protection and justice. 

Mary Stuart was so blinded that she did not see the trap, andimmediately offered to prove her innocence to the satisfaction ofher sister Elizabeth; but scarcely had she in her hands Mary Stuart'sletter, than from arbitress she became judge, and, naming commissionersto hear the parties, summoned Murray to appear and accuse his sister. Murray, who knew Elizabeth's secret intentions with regard to her rival, did not hesitate a moment. He came to England, bringing the casketcontaining the three letters we have quoted, some verses and some otherpapers which proved that the queen had not only been Bothwell'smistress during the lifetime of Darnley, but had also been aware of theassassination of her husband. On their side, Lord Herries and the Bishopof Ross, the queen's advocates, maintained that these letters hadbeen forged, that the handwriting was counterfeited, and demanded, inverification, experts whom they could not obtain; so that this greatcontroversy, remained pending for future ages, and to this hour nothingis yet affirmatively settled in this matter either by scholars orhistorians. 

After a five months' inquiry, the Queen of England made known to theparties, that not having, in these proceedings, been able to discoveranything to the dishonour of accuser or accused, everything would remainin statu quo till one or the other could bring forward fresh proofs. 

As a result of this strange decision, Elizabeth should have sent backthe regent to Scotland, and have left Mary Stuart free to go where shewould. But, instead of that, she had her prisoner removed from BoltonCastle to Carlisle Castle, from whose terrace, to crown her with grief, poor Mary Stuart saw the blue mountains of her own Scotland. 

However, among the judges named by Elizabeth to examine into MaryStuart's conduct was Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. Be it that he wasconvinced of Mary's innocence, be it that he was urged by the ambitiousproject which since served as a ground for his prosecution, and whichwas nothing else than to wed Mary Stuart, to affiance his daughterto the young king, and to become regent of Scotland, he resolved toextricate her from her prison. Several members of the high nobility ofEngland, among whom were the Earls of Westmoreland and Northumberland, entered into the plot and under, took to support it with all theirforces. But their scheme had been communicated to the regent: hedenounced it to Elizabeth, who had Norfolk arrested. Warned in time, Westmoreland and Northumberland crossed the frontiers and took refugein the Scottish borders which were favourable to Queen Mary. The formerreached Flanders, where he died in exile; the latter, given up toMurray, was sent to the castle of Lochleven, which guarded him morefaithfully than it had done its royal prisoner. As to Norfolk, he wasbeheaded. As one sees, Mary Stuart's star had lost none of its fatalinfluence. 

Meanwhile the regent had returned to Edinburgh, enriched with presentsfrom Elizabeth, and having gained, in fact, his case with her, sinceMary remained a prisoner. He employed himself immediately in dispersingthe remainder of her adherents, and had hardly shut the gates ofLochleven Castle upon Westmoreland than, in the name of the young KingJames VI, he pursued those who had upheld his mother's cause, and amongthem more particularly the Hamiltons, who since the affair of "sweepingthe streets of Edinburgh, " had been the mortal enemies of the Douglasespersonally; six of the chief members of this family were condemned todeath, and only obtained commutation of the penalty into an eternalexile on the entreaties of John Knox, at that time so powerful inScotland that Murray dared not refuse their pardon. 

One of the amnestied was a certain Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh, a man ofancient Scottish times, wild and vindictive as the nobles in the timeof James I. He had withdrawn into the highlands, where he had found anasylum, when he learned that Murray, who in virtue of the confiscationpronounced against exiles had given his lands to one of his favourites, had had the cruelty to expel his sick and bedridden wife from her ownhouse, and that without giving her time to dress, and although it wasin the winter cold. The poor woman, besides, without shelter, withoutclothes, and without food, had gone out of her mind, had wandered aboutthus for some time, an object of compassion but equally of dread; foreveryone had been afraid of compromising himself by assisting her. Atlast, she had returned to expire of misery and cold on the thresholdwhence she had been driven. 

On learning this news, Bothwellhaugh, despite the violence of hischaracter, displayed no anger: he merely responded, with a terriblesmile, "It is well; I shall avenge her. "

Next day, Bothwellhaugh left his highlands, and came down, disguised, into the plain, furnished with an order of admission from the Archbishopof St. Andrews to a house which this prelate--who, as one remembers, had followed the queen's fortunes to the last moment--had at Linlithgow. This house, situated in the main street, had a wooden balcony lookingon to the square, and a gate which opened out into the country. Bothwellhaugh entered it at night, installed himself on the first floor, hung black cloth on the walls so that his shadow should not be seen fromwithout, covered the floor with mattresses so that his footsteps mightnot be heard on the ground floor, fastened a racehorse ready saddled andbridled in the garden, hollowed out the upper part of the little gatewhich led to the open country so that he could pass through it at agallop, armed himself with a loaded arquebuse, and shut himself up inthe room. 

All these preparations had been made, one imagines, because Murray wasto spend the following day in Linlithgow. But, secret as they were, theywere to be rendered useless, for the regent's friends warned him thatit would not be safe for him to pass through the town, which belongedalmost wholly to the Hamiltons, and advised him to go by it. However, Murray was courageous, and, accustomed not to give way before a realdanger, he did nothing but laugh at a peril which he looked upon asimaginary, and boldly followed his first plan, which was not to go outof his way. Consequently, as the street into which the Archbishop of St. Andrews' balcony looked was on his road, he entered upon it, not goingrapidly and preceded by guards who would open up a passage for him, ashis friends still counselled, but advancing at a foot's pace, delayed ashe was by the great crowd which was blocking up the streets to see him. Arrived in front of the balcony, as if chance had been in tune with themurderer, the crush became so great that Murray was obliged to haltfor a moment: this rest gave Bothwellhaugh time to adjust himself for asteady shot. He leaned his arquebuse on the balcony, and, having takenaim with the necessary leisure and coolness, fired. Bothwellhaugh hadput such a charge into the arquebuse, that the ball, having passedthrough the regent's heart, killed the horse of a gentleman on hisright. Murray fell directly, saying, "My God! I am killed. "

As they had seen from which window the shot was fired, the persons inthe regent's train had immediately thrown themselves against the greatdoor of the house which looked on to the street, and had smashed itin; but they only arrived in time to see Bothwellhaugh fly throughthe little garden gate on the horse he had got ready: they immediatelyremounted the horses they had left in the street, and, passing throughthe house, pursued him. Bothwellhaugh had a good horse and the lead ofhis enemies; and yet, four of them, pistol in hand, were so well mountedthat they were beginning to gain upon him. Then Bothwellhaugh; seeingthat whip and spur were not enough, drew his dagger and used it to goadon his horse. His horse, under this terrible stimulus, acquired freshvigour, and, leaping a gully eighteen feet deep, put between his masterand his pursuers a barrier which they dared not cross. 

The murderer sought an asylum in France, where he retired under theprotection of the Guises. There, as the bold stroke he had attempted hadacquired him a great reputation, some days before the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, they made him overtures to assassinate Admiral Coligny. ButBothwellhaugh indignantly repulsed these proposals, saying that he wasthe avenger of abuses and not an assassin, and that those who had tocomplain of the admiral had only to come and ask him how he had done, and to do as he. 

As to Murray, he died the night following his wound, leaving the regencyto the Earl of Lennox, the father of Darnley: on learning the news ofhis death, Elizabeth wrote that she had lost her best friend. 

While these events were passing in Scotland, Mary Stuart was still aprisoner, in spite of the pressing and successive protests of CharlesIX and Henry III. Taking fright at the attempt made in her favour, Elizabeth even had her removed to Sheffield Castle, round which freshpatrols were incessantly in motion. 

But days, months, years passed, and poor Mary, who had borne soimpatiently her eleven months' captivity in Lochleven Castle, had beenalready led from prison to prison for fifteen or sixteen years, in spiteof her protests and those of the French and Spanish ambassadors, whenshe was finally taken to Tutbury Castle and placed under the care of SirAmyas Paulet, her last gaoler: there she found for her sole lodging twolow and damp rooms, where little by little what strength remained to herwas so exhausted that there were days on which she could not walk, onaccount of the pain in all her limbs. Then it was that she who had beenthe queen of two kingdoms, who was born in a gilded cradle and broughtup in silk and velvet, was forced to humble herself to ask of her gaolera softer bed and warmer coverings. This request, treated as an affair ofstate, gave rise to negotiations which lasted a month, after whichthe prisoner was at length granted what she asked. And yet theunhealthiness, cold, and privations of all kinds still did not workactively enough on that healthy and robust organisation. They tried toconvey to Paulet what a service he would render the Queen of England incutting short the existence of her who, already condemned in her rival'smind, yet delayed to die. But Sir Amyas Paulet, coarse and harsh as hewas to Mary Stuart, declared that, so long as she was with him she wouldhave nothing to fear from poison or dagger, because he would taste allthe dishes served to his prisoner, and that no one should approach herbut in his presence. In fact, some assassins, sent by Leicester, thevery same who had aspired for a moment to the hand of the lovely MaryStuart, were driven from the castle directly its stern keeper hadlearned with what intentions they had entered it. Elizabeth had to bepatient, then, in contenting herself with tormenting her whom she couldnot kill, and still hoping that a fresh opportunity would occur forbringing her to trial. That opportunity, so long delayed, the fatal starof Mary Stuart at length brought. 

A young Catholic gentleman, a last scion of that ancient chivalry whichwas already dying out at that time, excited by the excommunication ofPius V, which pronounced Elizabeth fallen from her kingdom on earthand her salvation in heaven, resolved to restore liberty to Mary, whothenceforth was beginning to be looked upon, no longer as a politicalprisoner, but as a martyr for her faith. Accordingly, braving the lawwhich Elizabeth had had made in 1585, and which provided that, if anyattempt on her person was meditated by, or for, a person who thoughthe had claims to the crown of England, a commission would be appointedcomposed of twenty-five members, which, to the exclusion of every othertribunal, would be empowered to examine into the offence, and to condemnthe guilty persons, whosoever they might be. Babington, not at alldiscouraged by the example of his predecessors, assembled five of hisfriends, Catholics as zealous as himself, who engaged their life andhonour in the plot of which he was the head, and which had as its aimto assassinate Elizabeth, and as a result to place Mary Stuart on theEnglish throne. But this scheme, well planned as it was, was revealed toWalsingham, who allowed the conspirators to go as far as he thoughthe could without danger, and who, the day before that fixed for theassassination, had them arrested. 

This imprudent and desperate attempt delighted Elizabeth, for, accordingto the letter of the law, it finally gave her rival's life into herhands. Orders were immediately given to Sir Amyas Paulet to seize theprisoner's papers and to move her to Fotheringay Castle. The gaoler, then, hypocritically relaxing his usual severity, suggested to MaryStuart that she should go riding, under the pretext that she had needof an airing. The poor prisoner, who for three years had only seen thecountry through her prison bars, joyfully accepted, and left Tutburybetween two guards, mounted, for greater security, on a horse whose feetwere hobbled. These two guards took her to Fotheringay Castle, her newhabitation, where she found the apartment she was to lodge in alreadyhung in black. Mary Stuart had entered alive into her tomb. As toBabington and his accomplices, they had been already beheaded. 

Meanwhile, her two secretaries, Curle and Nau, were arrested, and allher papers were seized and sent to Elizabeth, who, on her part, orderedthe forty commissioners to assemble, and proceed without intermission tothe trial of the prisoner. They arrived at Fotheringay the 14th October1586; and next day, being assembled in the great hall of the castle, they began the examination. 

At first Mary refused to appear before them, declaring that she did notrecognise the commissioners as judges, they not being her peers, and notacknowledging the English law, which had never afforded her protection, and which had constantly abandoned her to the rule of force. But seeingthat they proceeded none the less, and that every calumny was allowed, no one being there to refute it, she resolved to appear before thecommissioners. We quote the two interrogatories to which Mary Stuartsubmitted as they are set down in the report of M. De Bellievre to M. De Villeroy. M. De Bellievre, as we shall see later, had been speciallysent by King Henry III to Elizabeth. [Intelligence for M. Villeroy ofwhat was done in England by M. De Bellievre about the affairs of theQueen of Scotland, in the months of November and December 1586 andJanuary 1587. ]

The said lady being seated at the end of the table in the said hall, andthe said commissioners about her--

The Queen of Scotland began to speak in these terms:

"I do not admit that any one of you here assembled is my peer or myjudge to examine me upon any charge. Thus what I do, and now tell you, is of my own free will, taking God to witness that I am innocent andpure in conscience of the accusations and slanders of which they wishto accuse me. For I am a free princess and born a queen, obedient to noone, save to God, to whom alone I must give an account of my actions. This is why I protest yet again that my appearance before you be notprejudicial either to me, or to the kings, princes and potentates, myallies, nor to my son, and I require that my protest be registered, andI demand the record of it. "

Then the chancellor, who was one of the commissioners, replied in histurn, and protested against the protestation; then he ordered that thereshould be read over to the Queen of Scotland the commission in virtue ofwhich they were proceeding--a commission founded on the statutes and lawof the kingdom. 

But to this Mary Stuart made answer that she again protested; that thesaid statutes and laws were without force against her, because thesestatutes and laws are not made for persons of her condition. 

To this the chancellor replied that the commission intended to proceedagainst her, even if she refused to answer, and declared that thetrial should proceed; for she was doubly subject to indictment, theconspirators having not only plotted in her favour, but also with herconsent: to which the said Queen of Scotland responded that she hadnever even thought of it. 

Upon this, the letters it was alleged she had written to Babington andhis answers were read to her. 

Mary Stuart then affirmed that she had never seen Babington, that shehad never had any conference with him, had never in her life receiveda single letter from him, and that she defied anyone in the world tomaintain that she had ever done anything to the prejudice of the saidQueen of England; that besides, strictly guarded as she was, away fromall news, withdrawn from and deprived of those nearest her, surroundedwith enemies, deprived finally of all advice, she had been unable toparticipate in or to consent to the practices of which she was accused;that there are, besides, many persons who wrote to her what she hadno knowledge of, and that she had received a number of letters withoutknowing whence they came to her. 

Then Babington's confession was read to her; but she replied thatshe did not know what was meant; that besides, if Babington and hisaccomplices had said such things, they were base men, false and liars. 

"Besides, " added she, "show me my handwriting and my signature, sinceyou say that I wrote to Babington, and not copies counterfeited likethese which you have filled at your leisure with the falsehoods it haspleased you to insert. "

Then she was shown the letter that Babington, it was said, had writtenher. She glanced at it; then said, "I have no knowledge of this letter". Upon this, she was shown her reply, and she said again, "I have no moreknowledge of this answer. If you will show me my own letter and my ownsignature containing what you say, I will acquiesce in all; but upto the present, as I have already told you, you have produced nothingworthy of credence, unless it be the copies you have invented and addedto with what seemed good to you. "

With these words, she rose, and with her eyes full of tears--

"If I have ever, " said she, "consented to such intrigues, having forobject my sister's death, I pray God that He have neither pity nor mercyon me. I confess that I have written to several persons, that Ihave implored them to deliver me from my wretched prisons, where Ilanguished, a captive and ill-treated princess, for nineteen years andseven months; but it never occurred to me, even in thought, to writeor even to desire such things against the queen. Yes, I also confess tohaving exerted myself for the deliverance of some persecuted Catholics, and if I had been able, and could yet, with my own blood, protect themand save them from their pains, I would have done it, and would do itfor them with all my power, in order to save them from destruction. "

Then, turning to the secretary, Walsingham--

"But, my lord, " said she, "from the moment I see you here, I know whencecomes this blow: you have always been my greatest enemy and my son's, and you have moved everyone against me and to my prejudice. "

Thus accused to his face, Walsingham rose. 

"Madam, " he replied, "I protest before God, who is my witness, thatyou deceive yourself, and that I have never done anything againstyou unworthy of a good man, either as an individual or as a publicpersonage. "

This is all that was said and done that day in the proceedings, tillthe next day, when the queen was again obliged to appear before thecommissioners. 

And, being seated at the end of the table of the said hall, and the saidcommissioners about her, she began to speak in a loud voice. 

"You are not unaware, my lords and gentlemen, that I am a sovereignqueen, anointed and consecrated in the church of God, and cannot, andought not, for any reason whatever, be summoned to your courts, orcalled to your bar, to be judged by the law and statutes that you laydown; for I am a princess and free, and I do not owe to any prince morethan he owes to me; and on everything of which I am accused towards mysaid sister, I cannot, reply if you do not permit me to be assistedby counsel. And if you go further, do what you will; but from all yourprocedure, in reiterating my protestations, I appeal to God, who is theonly just and true judge, and to the kings and princes, my allies andconfederates. "

This protestation was once more registered, as she had required of thecommissioners. Then she was told that she had further written severalletters to the princes of Christendom, against the queen and the kingdomof England. 

"As to that, " replied Mary Stuart, "it is another matter, and I do notdeny it; and if it was again to do, I should do as I have done, to gainmy liberty; for there is not a man or woman in the world, of less rankthan I, who would not do it, and who would not make use of the help andsuccour of their friends to issue from a captivity as harsh as mine was. You charge me with certain letters from Babington: well, I do not denythat he has written to me and that I have replied to him; but if youfind in my answers a single word about the queen my sister, well, yes, there will be good cause to prosecute me. I replied to him who wroteto me that he would set me at liberty, that I accepted his offer, ifhe could do it without compromising the one or the other of us: that isall. 

"As to my secretaries, " added the queen, "not they, but torture spokeby their mouths: and as to the confessions of Babington and hisaccomplices, there is not much to be made of them; for now that they aredead you can say all that seems good to you; and let who will believeyou. "

With these words, the queen refused to answer further if she were notgiven counsel, and, renewing her protestation, she withdrew intoher apartment; but, as the chancellor had threatened, the trial wascontinued despite her absence. 

However, M. De Chateauneuf, the French ambassador to London, saw matterstoo near at hand to be deceived as to their course: accordingly, atthe first rumour which came to him of bringing Mary Stuart to trial, he wrote to King Henry III, that he might intervene in the prisoner'sfavour. Henry III immediately despatched to Queen Elizabeth an embassyextraordinary, of which M. De Bellievre was the chief; and at the sametime, having learned that James VI, Mary's son, far from interestinghimself in his mother's fate, had replied to the French minister, Courcelles, who spoke to him of her, "I can do nothing; let her drinkwhat she has spilled, " he wrote him the following letter, to decide theyoung prince to second him in the steps he was going to take:

"21st November, 1586. 

"COURCELLES, I have received your letter of the 4th October last, inwhich I have seen the discourse that the King of Scotland has held withyou concerning what you have witnessed to him of the good affectionI bear him, discourse in which he has given proof of desiring toreciprocate it entirely; but I wish that that letter had informed mealso that he was better disposed towards the queen his mother, and thathe had the heart and the desire to arrange everything in a way to assisther in the affliction in which she now is, reflecting that the prisonwhere she has been unjustly detained for eighteen years and more hasinduced her to lend an ear to many things which have been proposed toher for gaining her liberty, a thing which is naturally greatly desiredby all men, and more still by those who are born sovereigns and rulers, who bear being kept prisoners thus with less patience. He should alsoconsider that if the Queen of England, my good sister, allows herselfto be persuaded by the counsels of those who wish that she should stainherself with Queen Mary's blood, it will be a matter which will bringhim to great dishonour, inasmuch as one will judge that he will haverefused his mother the good offices that he should render her with thesaid Queen of England, and which would have perhaps been sufficient tomove her, if he would have employed them, as warmly, and as soon as hisnatural duty commanded him. Moreover, it is to be feared for him, that, his mother dead, his own turn may come, and that one may think of doingas much for him, by some violent means, to make the English successioneasier to seize for those who are likely to have it after the said QueenElizabeth, and not only to defraud the said King of Scotland of theclaim he can put forward, but to render doubtful even that which he hasto his own crown. I do not know in what condition the affairs of my saidsister-in-law will be when you receive this letter; but I will tellyou that in every case I wish you to rouse strongly the said King ofScotland, with remonstrances, and everything else which may bear on thissubject, to embrace the defence and protection of his said mother, andto express to him, on my part, that as this will be a matter for whichhe will be greatly praised by all the other kings and sovereign princes, he must be assured that if he fails in it there will be greatcensure for him, and perhaps notable injury to himself in particular. Furthermore, as to the state of my own affairs, you know that the queen, madam and mother, is about to see very soon the King of Navarre, andto confer with him on the matter of the pacification of the troubles ofthis kingdom, to which, if he bear as much good affection as I do formy part, I hope that things may come to a good conclusion, and that mysubjects will have some respite from the great evils and calamities thatthe war occasions them: supplicating the Creator, Courcelles, that Hemay have you in His holy keeping. 

"Written at St. Germain-en-Laye, the 21st day of November 1586. 

"(Signed) HENRI, "And below, BRULART. "

This letter finally decided James VI. To make a kind of demonstration inhis mother's favour: he sent Gray, Robert Melville, and Keith to QueenElizabeth. But although London was nearer Edinburgh than was Paris, theFrench envoys reached it before the Scotch. 

It is true that on reaching Calais, the 27th of November, M. DeBellievre had found a special messenger there to tell him not to lose aninstant, from M. De Chateauneuf, who, to provide for every difficulty, had chartered a vessel ready in the harbour. But however great the speedthese noble lords wished to make, they were obliged to await the wind'sgood-will, which did not allow them to put to sea till Friday 28th atmidnight; next day also, on reaching Dover at nine o'clock, they were soshaken by sea-sickness that they were forced to stay a whole day inthe town to recover, so that it was not till Sunday 30th that M. DeBellievre was able to set out in the coach that M. Chateauneuf sent himby M. De Brancaleon, and take the road to London, accompanied by thegentlemen of his suite, who rode on post-horses; but resting only afew hours on the way to make up for lost time, they at last arrivedin London, Sunday the 1st of December at midday. M. De Bellievreimmediately sent one of the gentlemen of his suite, named M. DeVilliers, to the Queen of England, who was holding her court at RichmondCastle: the decree had been secretly pronounced already six days, andsubmitted to Parliament, which was to deliberate upon it with closeddoors. 

The French ambassadors could not have chosen a worse moment to approachElizabeth; and to gain time she declined to receive M. De Villiers, returning the answer that he would himself know next day the reason forthis refusal. And indeed, next day, the rumour spread in London thatthe French Embassy had contagion, and that two of the lords in it havingdied of the plague at Calais, the queen, whatever wish she might have tobe agreeable to Henry III, could not endanger her precious existence byreceiving his envoys. Great was the astonishment of M. De Bellievre atlearning this news he protested that the queen was led into error by afalse report, and insisted on being received. Nevertheless, the delayslasted another six days; but as the ambassadors threatened to departwithout waiting longer, and as, upon the whole, Elizabeth, disquietedby Spain, had no desire to embroil herself with France, she had M. DeBellievre informed on the morning of the 7th of December that she wasready to receive him after dinner at Richmond Castle, together with thenoblemen of his suite. 

At the appointed time the French ambassadors presented themselves at thecastle gates, and, having been brought to the queen, found her seated onher throne and surrounded by the greatest lords in her kingdom. Then MM. De Chateauneuf and de Bellievre, the one the ambassador in ordinary andthe other the envoy extraordinary, having greeted her on the part of theKing of France, began to make her the remonstrances with which they werecharged. Elizabeth replied, not only in the same French tongue, but alsoin the most beautiful speech in use at that time, and, carried away bypassion, pointed out to the envoys of her brother Henry that the Queenof Scotland had always proceeded against her, and that this was thethird time that she had wished to attempt her life by an infinity ofways; which she had already borne too long and with too much patience, but that never had anything so profoundly cut her to the heart as herlast conspiracy; that event, added she with sadness, having caused herto sigh more and to shed more tears than the loss of all her relations, so much the more that the Queen of Scotland was her near relativeand closely connected with the King of France; and as, in theirremonstrances, MM. De Chateauneuf and de Bellievre had brought forwardseveral examples drawn from history, she assumed, in reply to them onthis occasion, the pedantic style which was usual with her, and toldthem that she had seen and read a great many books in her life, and athousand more than others of her sex and her rank were wont to, butthat she had never found in them a single example of a deed like thatattempted on her--a deed pursued by a relative, whom the king herbrother could not and ought not to support in her wickedness, when itwas, on the contrary, his duty to hasten the just punishment of it: thenshe added, addressing herself specially to M. De Bellievre, and comingdown again from the height of her pride to a gracious countenance, thatshe greatly regretted he was not deputed for a better occasion; that ina few days she would reply to King Henry her brother, concerning whosehealth she was solicitous, as well as that of the queen mother, who mustexperience such great fatigue from the trouble she took to restore peaceto her son's kingdom; and then, not wishing to hear more, she withdrewinto her room. 

The envoys returned to London, where they awaited the promised reply;but while they were expecting it unavailingly, they heard quietly thesentence of death given against Queen Mary, which decided them to returnto Richmond to make fresh remonstrances to Queen Elizabeth. After two orthree fruitless journeys, they were at last, December 15th, admitted forthe second time to the royal presence. 

The queen did not deny that the sentence had been pronounced, and as itwas easy to see that she did not intend in this case to use her rightof pardon, M. De Bellievre, judging that there was nothing to be done, asked for a safe-conduct to return to his king: Elizabeth promised it tohim within two or three days. 

On the following Tuesday, the 17th of the same month of December, Parliament as well as the chief lords of the realm were convoked at thePalace of Westminster, and there, in full court and before all, sentenceof death was proclaimed and pronounced against Mary Stuart: then thissame sentence, with great display and great solemnity, was read in thesquares and at the cross-roads of London, whence it spread throughoutthe kingdom; and upon this proclamation the bells rang for twenty-fourhours, while the strictest orders were given to each of the inhabitantsto light bonfires in front of their houses, as is the custom in Franceon the Eve of St. John the Baptist. 

Then, amid this sound of bells, by the light of these bonfires, M. DeBellievre, wishing to make a last effort, in order to have nothingwith which to reproach himself, wrote the following letter to QueenElizabeth:

"MADAM:--We quitted your Majesty yesterday, expecting, as it had pleasedyou to inform us, to receive in a few days your reply touching theprayer that we made you on behalf of our good master, your brother, forthe Queen of Scotland, his sister in-law and confederate; but as thismorning we have been informed that the judgment given against the saidqueen has been proclaimed in London, although we had promised ourselvesanother issue from your clemency and the friendship your bear to thesaid lord king your good brother, nevertheless, to neglect no part ofour duty, and believing in so doing to serve the intentions of the kingour master, we have not wanted to fail to write to you this presentletter, in which we supplicate you once again, very humbly, not torefuse his Majesty the very pressing and very affectionate prayer thathe has made you, that you will be pleased to preserve the life of thesaid lady Queen of Scotland, which the said lord king will receive asthe greatest pleasure your Majesty could do him; while, on the contrary, he could not imagine anything which would cause him more displeasure, and which would wound him more, than if he were used harshly with regardto the said lady queen, being what she is to him: and as, madam, the said king our master, your good brother, when for this object hedespatched us to your Majesty, had not conceived that it was possible, in any case, to determine so promptly upon such an execution, we imploreyou, madam, very humbly, before permitting it to go further, to grant ussome time in which we can make known to him the state of the affairs ofthe said Queen of Scotland, in order that before your Majesty takes afinal resolution, you may know what it may please his very ChristianMajesty to tell you and point out to you on the greatest affair which, in our memory, has been submitted to men's judgment. Monsieur deSaint-Cyr, who will give these presents to your Majesty, will bring us, if it pleases you, your good reply. 

"London, this 16th day of December 1586. 

"(Signed) DE BELLIEVRE, "And DE L'AUBESPINE CHATEAUNEUF. "

The same day, M. De Saint-Cyr and the other French lords returned toRichmond to take this letter; but the queen would not receive them, alleging indisposition, so that they were obliged to leave the letterwith Walsingham, her first Secretary of State, who promised them to sendthe queen's answer the following day. 

In spite of this promise, the French lords waited two days more: atlast, on the second day, towards evening, two English gentlemen soughtout M. De Fellievre in London, and, viva voce, without any letter toconfirm what they were charged to say, announced to him, on behalf oftheir queen, that in reply to the letter that they had written her, andto do justice to the desire they had shown to obtain for the condemned areprieve during which they would make known the decision to the Kingof France, her Majesty would grant twelve days. As this was Elizabeth'slast word, and it was useless to lose time in pressing her further, M. De Genlis was immediately despatched to his Majesty the King of France, to whom, besides the long despatch of M. De Chateauneuf and de Bellievrewhich he was charged to remit, he was to say 'viva voce' what he hadseen and heard relative to the affairs of Queen Mary during the wholetime he had been in England. 

Henry III responded immediately with a letter containing freshinstructions for MM. De Chateauneuf and de Bellievre; but in spite ofall the haste M. De Genlis could make, he did not reach London till thefourteenth day--that is to say, forty-eight hours after the expirationof the delay granted; nevertheless, as the sentence had not yet been putinto execution, MM. De Bellievre and de Chateauneuf set out at once forGreenwich Castle, some miles from London, where the queen was keepingChristmas, to beg her to grant them an audience, in which they couldtransmit to her Majesty their king's reply; but they could obtainnothing for four or five days; however, as they were not disheartened, and returned unceasingly to the charge, January 6th, MM. De Bellievreand de Chateauneuf were at last sent for by the queen. 

As on the first occasion, they were introduced with all the ceremonialin use at that time, and found Elizabeth in an audience-chamber. Theambassadors approached her, greeted her, and M. De Bellievre began toaddress to her with respect, but at the same time with firmness, hismaster's remonstrances. Elizabeth listened to them with an impatientair, fidgeting in her seat; then at last, unable to control herself, sheburst out, rising and growing red with anger--

"M. De Bellievre, " said she, "are you really charged by the king, mybrother, to speak to me in such a way?"

"Yes, madam, " replied M. De Bellievre, bowing; "I am expressly commandedto do so. "

"And have you this command under his hand?" continued Elizabeth. 

"Yes, madam, " returned the ambassador with the same calmness; "and theking, my master, your good brother, has expressly charged me, in letterssigned by his own hand, to make to your Majesty the remonstrances whichI have had the honour to address to you. "

"Well, " cried Elizabeth, no longer containing herself, "I demand of youa copy of that letter, signed by you; and reflect that you will answerfor each word that you take away or add. "

"Madam, " answered M. De Bellievre, "it is not the custom of the kings ofFrance, or of their agents, to forge letters or documents; you will havethe copies you require to-morrow morning, and I pledge their accuracy onmy honour. "

"Enough, sir, enough!" said the queen, and signing to everyone in theroom to go out, she remained nearly an hour with MM. De Chateauneuf andde Bellievre. No one knows what passed in that interview, except thatthe queen promised to send an ambassador to the King of France, who, shepromised, would be in Paris, if not before, at least at the same time asM. De Bellievre, and would be the bearer of her final resolve as to theaffairs of the Queen of Scotland; Elizabeth then withdrew, giving theFrench envoys to understand that any fresh attempt they might make tosee her would be useless. 

On the 13th of January the ambassadors received their passports, and atthe same time notice that a vessel of the queen's was awaiting them atDover. 

The very day of their departure a strange incident occurred. A gentlemannamed Stafford, a brother of Elizabeth's ambassador to the King ofFrance, presented himself at M. De Trappes's, one of the officialsin the French chancellery, telling him that he was acquainted witha prisoner for debt who had a matter of the utmost importance tocommunicate to him, and that he might pay the greater attention to it, he told him that this matter was connected with the service of the Kingof France, and concerned the affairs of Queen Mary of Scotland. M. DeTrappes, although mistrusting this overture from the first, did notwant, in case his suspicions deceived him, to have to reproach himselffor any neglect on such a pressing occasion. He repaired, then, with;Mr. Stafford to the prison, where he who wished to converse with him wasdetained. When he was with him, the prisoner told him that he waslocked up for a debt of only twenty crowns, and that his desire to beat liberty was so great that if M. De Chateauneuf would pay that sum forhim he would undertake to deliver the Queen of Scotland from her danger, by stabbing Elizabeth: to this proposal, M. De Trappes, who saw thepitfall laid for the French ambassador, was greatly astonished, and saidthat he was certain that M. De Chateauneuf would consider as very evilevery enterprise having as its aim to threaten in any way the life ofQueen Elizabeth or the peace of the realm; then, not desiring to hearmore, he returned to M. De Chateauneuf and related to him what hadjust happened. M. De Chateauneuf, who perceived the real cause of thisoverture, immediately said to Mr. Stafford that he thought it strangethat a gentleman like himself should undertake with another gentlemansuch treachery, and requested him to leave the Embassy at once, andnever to set foot there again. Then Stafford withdrew, and, appearingto think himself a lost man, he implored M. De Trappes to allow him tocross the Channel with him and the French envoys. M. De Trappes referredhim to M. De Chateauneuf, who answered Mr. Stafford directly that he hadnot only forbidden him his house, but also all relations with any personfrom the Embassy, that he must thus very well see that his requestcould not be granted; he added that if he were not restrained by theconsideration he desired to keep for his brother, the Earl of Stafford, his colleague, he would at once denounce his treason to Elizabeth. Thesame day Stafford was arrested. 

After this conference, M. De Trappes set out to rejoin his travellingcompanions, who were some hours in advance of him, when, on reachingDover he was arrested in his turn and brought hack to prison in London. Interrogated the same day, M. De Trappes frankly related what hadpassed, appealing to M. De Chateauneuf as to the truth of what he said. 

The day following there was a second interrogatory, and great was hisamazement when, on requesting that the one of the day before shouldbe shown him, he was merely shown, according to custom in English law, counterfeit copies, in which were avowals compromising him as well as M. De Chateauneuf: he objected and protested, refused to answer or tosign anything further, and was taken back to the Tower with redoubledprecaution, the object of which was the appearance of an importantaccusation. 

Next day, M. De Chateauneuf was summoned before the queen, and thereconfronted with Stafford, who impudently maintained that he had treatedof a plot with M. De Trappes and a certain prisoner for debt--a plotwhich aimed at nothing less than endangering the Queen's life. M. De Chateauneuf defended himself with the warmth of indignation, butElizabeth had too great an interest in being unconvinced even to attendto the evidence. She then said to M. De Chateauneuf that his characterof ambassador alone prevented her having him arrested like hisaccomplice M. De Trappes; and immediately despatching, as she hadpromised, an ambassador to King Henry III, she charged him not to excuseher for the sentence which had just been pronounced and the death whichmust soon follow, but to accuse M. De Chateauneuf of having taken partin a plot of which the discovery alone had been able to decide her toconsent to the death of the Queen of Scotland, certain as she was byexperience, that so long as her enemy lived her existence would behourly threatened. 

On the same day, Elizabeth made haste to spread, not only in London, butalso throughout England, the rumour of the fresh danger from which shehad just escaped, so that, when, two days after the departure of theFrench envoys, the Scottish ambassadors, who, as one sees, had not usedmuch speed, arrived, the queen answered them that their request cameunseasonably, at a time when she had just had proof that, so long asMary Stuart existed, her own (Elizabeth's) life was in danger. RobertMelville wished to reply to this; but Elizabeth flew into a passion, saying that it was he, Melville, who had given the King of Scotlandthe bad advice to intercede for his mother, and that if she had such anadviser she would have him beheaded. To which Melville answered--

"That at the risk of his life he would never spare his master goodadvice; and that, on the contrary, he who would counsel a son to let hismother perish, would deserve to be beheaded. "

Upon this reply, Elizabeth ordered the Scotch envoys to withdrew, telling them that she would let them have her answer. 

Three or four days passed, and as they heard nothing further, they askedagain for a parting audience to hear the last resolve of her to whomthey were sent: the queen then decided to grant it, and all passed, as with M. De Bellievre, in recriminations and complaints. Finally, Elizabeth asked them what guarantee they would give for her life inthe event of her consenting to pardon the Queen of Scotland. The envoysresponded that they were authorised to make pledges in the name of theKing of Scotland, their master, and all the lords of his realm, thatMary Stuart should renounce in favour of her son all her claims upon theEnglish crown, and that she should give as security for this undertakingthe King of France, and all the princes and lords, his relations andfriends. 

To this answer, the queen, without her usual presence of mind, cried, "What are you saying, Melville? That would be to arm my enemy with twoclaims, while he has only one". 

"Does your Majesty then regard the king, my master, as your enemy?"replied Melville. "He believed himself happier, madam, and thought hewas your ally. "

"No, no, " Elizabeth said, blushing; "it is a way of speaking: and if youfind a means of reconciling everything, gentlemen, to prove to you, onthe contrary, that I regard King James VI as my good and faithful ally, I am quite ready to incline to mercy. Seek, then, on your side" addedshe, "while I seek on mine. "

With these words, she went out of the room, and the ambassadors retired, with the light of the hope of which she had just let them catch aglimpse. 

The same evening, a gentleman at the court sought out the Master ofGray, the head of the Embassy, as if to pay him a civil visit, and whileconversing said to him, "That it was very difficult to reconcile thesafety of Queen Elizabeth with the life of her prisoner; that besides, if the Queen of Scotland were pardoned, and she or her son ever cameto the English throne, there would be no security for the lordscommissioners who had voted her death; that there was then only one wayof arranging everything, that the King of Scotland should himself giveup his claims to the kingdom of England; that otherwise, accordingto him, there was no security for Elizabeth in saving the life of theScottish queen". The Master of Gray then, looking at him fixedly, askedhim if his sovereign had charged him to come to him with this talk. Butthe gentleman denied it, saying that all this was on his own account andin the way of opinion. 

Elizabeth received the envoys from Scotland once more, and then toldthem--

"That after having well considered, she had found no way of saving thelife of the Queen of Scotland while securing her own, that accordinglyshe could not grant it to them". To this declaration, the Master of Grayreplied: "That since it was thus, he was, in this case, ordered by hismaster to say that they protested in the name of King James that allthat had been done against his mother was of no account, seeing thatQueen Elizabeth had no authority over a queen, as she was her equal inrank and birth; that accordingly they declared that immediately aftertheir return, and when their master should know the result of theirmission, he would assemble his Parliament and send messengers to all theChristian princes, to take counsel with them as to what could be done toavenge her whom they could not save. "

Then Elizabeth again flew into a passion, saying that they had certainlynot received from their king a mission to speak to her in such a way;but they thereupon offered to give her this protest in writing undertheir signatures; to which Elizabeth replied that she would send anambassador to arrange all that with her good friend and ally, the Kingof Scotland. But the envoys then said that their master would not listento anyone before their return. Upon which Elizabeth begged them not togo away at once, because she had not yet come to her final decision uponthis matter. On the evening following this audience, Lord Hingleyhaving come to see the Master of Gray, and having seemed to notice somehandsome pistols which came from Italy, Gray, directly he had gone, asked this nobleman's cousin to take them to him as a gift from him. Delighted with this pleasant commission, the young man wished to performit the same evening, and went to the queen's palace, where his relativewas staying, to give him the present which he had been told to take tohim. But hardly had he passed through a few rooms than he was arrested, searched, and the arms he was taking were found upon him. Although thesewere not loaded, he was immediately arrested; only he was not taken tothe Tower, but kept a prisoner in his own room. 

Next day there was a rumour that the Scotch ambassadors had wanted toassassinate the queen in their turn, and that pistols, given by theMaster of Gray himself, had been found on the assassin. 

This bad faith could not but open the envoys' eyes. Convinced at lastthat they could do nothing for poor Mary Stuart, they left her to herfate, and set out next day for Scotland. 

Scarcely were they gone than Elizabeth sent her secretary, Davison, toSir Amyas Paulet. He was instructed to sound him again with regard tothe prisoner; afraid, in spite of herself, of a public execution, thequeen had reverted to her former ideas of poisoning or assassination;but Sir Amyas Paulet declared that he would let no one have accessto Mary but the executioner, who must in addition be the bearer of awarrant perfectly in order, Davison reported this answer to Elizabeth, who, while listening to him, stamped her foot several times, and when hehad finished, unable to control herself, cried, "God's death! there'sa dainty fellow, always talking of his fidelity and not knowing how toprove it!"

Elizabeth was then obliged to make up her mind. She asked Davisonfor the warrant; he gave it to her, and, forgetting that she was thedaughter of a queen who had died on the scaffold, she signed it withoutany trace of emotion; then, having affixed to it the great seal ofEngland, "Go, " said she, laughing, "tell Walsingham that all is endedfor Queen Mary; but tell him with precautions, for, as he is ill, I amafraid he will die of grief when he hears it. "

The jest was the more atrocious in that Walsingham was known to be theQueen of Scotland's bitterest enemy. 

Towards evening of that day, Saturday the 14th, Beale, Walsingham'sbrother-in-law, was summoned to the palace! The queen gave into hishands the death warrant, and with it an order addressed to the Earls ofShrewsbury, Kent, Rutland, and other noblemen in the neighbourhood ofFotheringay, to be present at the execution. Beale took with him theLondon executioner, whom Elizabeth had had dressed in black velvet forthis great occasion; and set out two hours after he had received hiswarrant. 

CHAPTER IX

Queen Mary had known the decree of the commissioners these two months. The very day it had been pronounced she had learned the news through herchaplain, whom they had allowed her to see this once only. Mary Stuarthad taken advantage of this visit to give him three letters she had justwritten-one for Pope Sixtus V, the other to Don Bernard Mendoza, thethird to the Duke of Guise. Here is that last letter:--

14th December, 1586

"My Good Cousin, whom I hold dearest in the world, I bid you farewell, being prepared to be put to death by an unjust judgment, and to a deathsuch as no one of our race, thanks to God, and never a queen, and stillless one of my rank, has ever suffered. But, good cousin, praise theLord; for I was useless to the cause of God and of His Church in thisworld, prisoner as I was; while, on the contrary, I hope that my deathwill bear witness to my constancy in the faith and to my willingness tosuffer for the maintenance and the restoration of the Catholic Churchin this unfortunate island. And though never has executioner dipped hishand in our blood, have no shame of it, my friend; for the judgment ofheretics who have no authority over me, a free queen, is profitable inthe sight of God to the children of His Church. If I adhered, moreover, to what they propose to me, I should not suffer this stroke. All ofour house have been persecuted by this sect, witness your good father, through whose intercession I hope to be received with mercy by the justjudge. I commend to you, then, my poor servants, the discharge of mydebts, and the founding of some annual mass for my soul, not at yourexpense, but that you may make the arrangements, as you will be requiredwhen you learn my wishes through my poor and faithful servants, who areabout to witness my last tragedy. God prosper you, your wife, children, brothers and cousins, and above all our chief, my good brother andcousin, and all his. The blessing of God and that which I shall give tomy children be on yours, whom I do not commend less to God than my ownson, unfortunate and ill-treated as he is. You will receive some ringsfrom me, which will remind you to pray God for the soul of your poorcousin, deprived of all help and counsel except that of the Lord, whogives me strength and courage to alone to resist so many wolves howlingafter me. To God be the glory. 

"Believe particularly what will be told you by a person who will giveyou a ruby ring from me; for I take it on my conscience that the truthwill be told you of what I have charged him to tell, and especiallyin what concerns my poor servants and the share of any. I commend thisperson to you for his simple sincerity and honesty, that he may beplaced in some good place. I have chosen him as the least partial and asthe one who will most simply bring you my commands. Ignore, I beg you, that he told you anything in particular; for envy might injure him. Ihave suffered a great deal for two years and more, and have not beenable to let you know, for an important reason. God be praised for all, and give you grace to persevere in the service of His Church as long asyou live, and never may this honour pass from our race, while so manymen and women are ready to shed their blood to maintain the fight forthe faith, all other worldly considerations set aside. And as to me, Iesteem myself born on both father's and mother's sides, that Ishould offer up my blood for this cause, and I have no intention ofdegenerating. Jesus, crucified for us, and all the holy martyrs, makeus by their intercession worthy of the voluntary offering we make of ourbodies to their glory!

"From Fotheringay, this Thursday, 24th November. 

"They have, thinking to degrade me, pulled down my canopy of state, andsince then my keeper has come to offer to write to their queen, sayingthis deed was not done by his order, but by the advice of some of theCouncil. I have shown them instead of my arms on the said canopy thecross of Our Lord. You will hear all this; they have been more gentlesince. --Your affectionate cousin and perfect friend, "MARY, Queen of Scotland, Dowager of France"

From this day forward, when she learned the sentence delivered by thecommissioners, Mary Stuart no longer preserved any hope; for as she knewElizabeth's pardon was required to save her, she looked upon herselfthenceforward as lost, and only concerned herself with preparing to diewell. Indeed, as it had happened to her sometimes, from the cold anddamp in her prisons, to become crippled for some time in all her limbs, she was afraid of being so when they would come to take her, which wouldprevent her going resolutely to the scaffold, as she was counting ondoing. So, on Saturday the 14th February, she sent for her doctor, Bourgoin, and asked him, moved by a presentiment that her death wasat hand, she said, what she must do to prevent the return of the painswhich crippled her. He replied that it would be good for her to medicineherself with fresh herbs. "Go, then, " said the queen, "and ask Sir AmyasPaulet from me permission to seek them in the fields. "

Bourgoin went to Sir Amyas, who, as he himself was troubled withsciatica, should have understood better than anyone the need of theremedies for which the queen asked. But this request, simple as it was, raised great difficulties. Sir Amyas replied that he could do nothingwithout referring to his companion, Drury; but that paper and ink mightbe brought, and that he, Master Bourgoin, could then make a list of theneedful plants, which they would try to procure. Bourgoin answered thathe did not know English well enough, and that the village apothecariesdid not know enough Latin, for him to risk the queen's life for someerror by himself or others. Finally, after a thousand hesitations, Paulet allowed Bourgoin to go out, which he did, accompanied by theapothecary Gorjon; so that the following day the queen was able to beginto doctor herself. 

Mary Stuart's presentiments had not deceived her: Tuesday, February17th, at about two o'clock in the afternoon, the Earls of Kent andShrewsbury, and Beale sent word to the queen that they desired to speakwith her. The queen answered that she was ill and in bed, but that ifnotwithstanding what they had to tell her was a matter of importance, and they would give her a little time, she would get up. They madeanswer that the communication they had to make admitted of no delay, that they begged her then to make ready; which the queen immediatelydid, and rising from her bed and cloaking herself, she went and seatedherself at a little table, on the same spot where she was wont to begreat part of the day. 

Then the two earls, accompanied by Beale, Arnyas Paulet, and Drue Drury, entered. Behind them, drawn by curiosity, full of terrible anxiety, came her dearest ladies and most cherished servants. These were, ofwomenkind, the Misses Renee de Really, Gilles Mowbray, Jeanne Kennedy, Elspeth Curle, Mary Paget, and Susan Kercady; and of men-kind, DominiqueBourgoin her doctor, Pierre Gorjon her apothecary, Jacques Gervais hersurgeon, Annibal Stewart her footman, Dither Sifflart her butler, JeanLaudder her baker, and Martin Huet her carver. 

Then the Earl of Shrewsbury, with head bared like all those present, whoremained thus as long as they were in the queen's room, began to say inEnglish, addressing Mary--

"Madam, the Queen of England, my august mistress, has sent me to you, with the Earl of Kent and Sir Robert Beale, here present, to make knownto you that after having honourably proceeded in the inquiry into thedeed of which you are accused and found guilty, an inquiry which hasalready been submitted to your Grace by Lord Buckhurst, and havingdelayed as long as it was in her power the execution of the sentence, she can no longer withstand the importunity of her subjects, who pressher to carry it out, so great and loving is their fear for her. Forthis purpose we have come the bearers of a commission, and we beg veryhumbly, madam, that it may please you to hear it read. "

"Read, my lord; I am listening, " replied Mary Stuart, with the greatestcalmness. Then Robert Beale unrolled the said commission, which wason parchment, sealed with the Great Seal in yellow wax, and read asfollows:

"Elizabeth, by the grace of God, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, etc. , to our beloved and faithful cousins, George, Earl of Shrewsbury, Grand Marshal of England; Henry, Earl of Kent; Henry, Earl of Derby;George, Earl of Cumberland; Henry, Earl of Pembroke, greeting: [TheEarls of Cumberland, Derby, and Pembroke did not attend to the queen'sorders, and were present neither at the reading of the sentence nor atthe execution. ]

"Considering the sentence by us given, and others of our Council, nobility, and judges, against the former Queen of Scotland, bearingthe name of Mary, daughter and heiress of James v, King of Scotland, commonly called Queen of Scotland and Dowager of France, which sentenceall the estates of our realm in our last Parliament assembled not onlyconcluded, but, after mature deliberation, ratified as being justand reasonable; considering also the urgent prayer and request of oursubjects, begging us and pressing us to proceed to the publicationthereof, and to carry it into execution against her person, according asthey judge it duly merited, adding in this place that her detention wasand would be daily a certain and evident danger, not only to our life, but also to themselves and their posterity, and to the public weal ofthis realm, as much on account of the Gospel and the true religion ofChrist as of the peace and tranquillity of this State, although the saidsentence has been frequently delayed, so that even until this timewe abstained from issuing the commission to execute it: yet, for thecomplete satisfaction of the said demands made by the Estates ofour Parliament, through which daily we hear that all our friends andsubjects, as well as the nobility, the wisest, greatest, and most pious, nay, even those of inferior condition, with all humility and affectionfrom the care they have of our life, and consequently from the fear theyhave of the destruction of the present divine and happy state of therealm if we spare the final execution, consenting and desiring the saidexecution; though the general and continual demands, prayers, counsels, and advice were in such things contrary to our natural inclination; yet, being convinced of the urgent weight of their continual intercessionstending to the safety of our person, and also to the public and privatestate of our realm, we have at last consented and suffered that justicehave its course, and for its execution, considering the singularconfidence we have in your fidelity and loyalty together for the loveand affection that you have toward us, particularly to the safe-guardingof our person and our country of which you are very noble and chiefmembers; we summon, and, for the discharge of it we enjoin you, that atsight of these presents you go to the castle of Fotheringay, where theformer Queen of Scotland is, in the care of our friend and faithfulservant and counsellor, Sir Amyas Paulet, and there take into yourkeeping and do that by your command execution be done on her person, inthe presence of yourselves and the said Sir Amyas Paulet, and of all theother officers of justice whom you command to be there: in the meantimewe have for this end and this execution given warrant in such a wayand manner, and in such a time and place, and by such persons, thatyou five, four, three, or two, find expedient in your discretion;notwithstanding all laws, statutes, and ordinances whatsoever, contraryto these presents, sealed with our Great Seal of England, which willserve for each of you, and all those who are present, or will makeby your order anything pertaining to the execution aforesaid full andsufficient discharge for ever. 

"Done and given in our house at Greenwich, the first day of February(10th February New Style), in the twenty-ninth year of our reign. "

Mary listened to this reading with great calmness and great dignity;then, when it was ended, making the sign of the cross--

"Welcome, " said she, "to all news which comes in the name of God!Thanks, Lord, for that You deign to put an end to all the ills You haveseen me suffer for nineteen years and more. "

"Madam, " said the Earl of Kent, "have no ill-will towards us on accountof your death; it was necessary to the peace of the State and theprogress of the new religion. "

"So, " cried Mary with delight, "so I shall have the happiness of dyingfor the faith of my fathers; thus God deigns to grant me the gloryof martyrdom. Thanks, God, " added she, joining her hands with lessexcitement but with more piety, "thanks that You have deigned to destinefor me such an end, of which I was not worthy. That, O my God, is indeeda proof of Your love, and an assurance that You will receive me in thenumber of Your servants; for although this sentence had been notified tome, I was afraid, from the manner in which they have dealt with me fornineteen years, of not yet being so near as I am to such a happy end, thinking that your queen would not dare to lay a hand on me, who, by thegrace of God, am a queen as she is, the daughter of a queen as she is, crowned as she is, her near relative, granddaughter of King Henry VII, and who has had the honour of being Queen of France, of which I am stillDowager; and this fear was so much the greater, " added she, laying herhand on a New Testament which was near her on the little table, "that, I swear on this holy book, I have never attempted, consented to, or evendesired the death of my sister, the Queen of England. "

"Madam, " replied the Earl of Kent, taking a step towards her andpointing to the New Testament; "this book on which you have sworn is notgenuine, since it is the papist version; consequently, your oath cannotbe considered as any more genuine than the book on which it has beentaken. "

"My lord, " answered the queen, "what you say may befit you, but not me, who well know that this book is the true and faithful version of theword of the Lord, a version made by a very wise divine, a very good man, and approved by the Church. "

"Madam, " the Earl of Kent returned, "your Grace stopped at what you weretaught in your youth, without inquiry as to whether it was good or bad:it is not surprising, then, that you have remained in your error, forwant of having heard anyone who could make known the truth to you;this is why, as your Grace has but a few hours longer to remain in thisworld, and consequently has no time to lose, with your permission weshall send for the Dean of Peterborough, the most learned man there ison the subject of religion, who, with his word, will prepare you foryour salvation, which you risk to our great grief and that of ouraugust queen, by all the papistical follies, abominations, and childishnonsense which keep Catholics away from the holy word of God and theknowledge of the truth. "

"You mistake, my lord, " replied the queen gently, "if you have believedthat I have grown up careless in the faith of my fathers, and withoutseriously occupying myself with a matter so important as religion. I have, on the contrary, spent my life with learned and wise men whotaught me what one must learn on this subject, and I have sustainedmyself by reading their works, since the means of hearing them has beentaken from me. Besides, never having doubted in my lifetime, doubtis not likely to seize me in my death-hour. And there is the Earl ofShrewsbury, here present, who will tell you that, since my arrivalin England, I have, for an entire Lent, of which I repent, heard yourwisest doctors, without their arguments having made any impression on mymind. It will be useless, then, my lord, " she added, smiling, "to summonto one so hardened as I the Dean of Peterborough, learned as he is. The only thing I ask you in exchange, my lord, and for which I shall begrateful to you beyond expression, is that you will send me my almoner, whom you keep shut up in this house, to console me and prepare me fordeath, or, in his stead, another priest, be he who he may; if only apoor priest from a poor village, I being no harder to please than God, and not asking that he have knowledge, provided that he has faith. "

"It is with regret, madam, " replied the Earl of Kent, "that I findmyself obliged to refuse your Grace's, request; but it would be contraryto our religion and our conscience, and we should be culpable in doingit; this is why we again offer you the venerable Dean of Peterborough, certain that your Grace will find more consolation and content in himthan in any bishop, priest, or vicar of the Catholic faith. "

"Thank you, my lord, " said the queen again, "but I have nothing to-dowith him, and as I have a conscience free of the crime for which Iam about to die, with God's help, martyrdom will take the place ofconfession for me. And now, I will remind you, my lord, of what you toldme yourself, that I have but a few hours to live; and these few hours, to profit me, should be passed in prayer and meditation, and not in idledisputes. "

With these words, she rose, and, bowing to the earls, Sir Robert Beale, Amyas, and Drury, she indicated, by a gesture full of dignity, that shewished to be alone and in peace; then, as they prepared to go out--

"Apropos, my lords, " said she, "for what o'clock should I make ready todie?"

"For eight o'clock to-morrow, madam, " answered the Earl of Shrewsbury, stammering. 

"It is well, " said Mary; "but have you not some reply to make me, frommy sister Elizabeth, relative to a letter which I wrote to her about amonth ago?"

"And of what did this letter treat, if it please you, madam?" asked theEarl of Kent. 

"Of my burial and my funeral ceremony, my lord: I asked to be interredin France, in the cathedral church of Rheims, near the late queen mymother. "

"That may not be, madam, " replied the Earl of Kent; "but do not troubleyourself as to all these details: the queen, my august mistress, willprovide for them as is suitable. Has your grace anything else to askus?"

"I would also like to know, " said Mary, "if my servants will be allowedto return, each to his own country, with the little that I can give him;which will hardly be enough, in any case, for the long service they havedone me, and the long imprisonment they have borne on my account. "

"We have no instructions on that head, madam, " the Earl of Kent said, "but we think that an order will be given for this as for the otherthings, in accordance with your wishes. Is this all that your Grace hasto say to us?"

"Yes, my lord, " replied the queen, bowing a second time, "and now youmay withdraw. "

"One moment, my lords, in Heaven's name, one moment!" cried the oldphysician, coming forward and throwing himself on his knees before thetwo earls. 

"What do you want?" asked Lord Shrewsbury. 

"To point out to you, my lords, " replied the aged Bourgoin, weeping, "that you have granted the queen but a very short time for such animportant matter as this of her life. Reflect, my lords, what rank anddegree she whom you have condemned has held among the princes of thisearth, and consider if it is well and seemly to treat her as an ordinarycondemned person of middling estate. And if not for the sake of thisnoble queen, my lords, do this for the sake of us her poor servants, who, having had the honour of living near her so long, cannot thus partfrom her so quickly and without preparation. Besides, my lords, think ofit, a woman of her state and position ought to have some time in whichto set in order her last affairs. And what will become of her, and ofus, if before dying, our mistress has not time to regulate her jointureand her accounts and to put in order her papers and her title-deeds? Shehas services to reward and offices of piety to perform. She shouldnot neglect the one or the other. Besides, we know that she will onlyconcern herself with us, and, through this, my lords, neglect herown salvation. Grant her, then, a few more days, my lords; and as ourmistress is too proud to ask of you such a favour, I ask you in all ournames, and implore you not to refuse to poor servants a request whichyour august queen would certainly not refuse them, if they had the goodfortune to be able to lay it at her feet. "

"Is it then true, madam, " Sir Robert Beale asked, "that you have not yetmade a will?"

"I have not, sir, " the queen answered. 

"In that case, my lords, " said Sir Robert Beale, turning to the twoearls, "perhaps it would be a good thing to put it off for a day ortwo. "

"Impossible, sir, " replied the Earl of Shrewsbury: "the time is fixed, and we cannot change anything, even by a minute, now. "

"Enough, Bourgoin, enough, " said the queen; "rise, I command you. "

Bourgoin obeyed, and the Earl of Shrewsbury, turning to Sir AmyasPaulet, who was behind him--

"Sir Amyas, " said he, "we entrust this lady to your keeping: you willcharge yourself with her, and keep her safe till our return. "

With these words he went out, followed by the Earl of Kent, Sir RobertBeale, Amyas Paulet, and Drury, and the queen remained alone with herservants. 

Then, turning to her women with as serene a countenance as if the eventwhich had just taken place was of little importance--

"Well, Jeanne, " said she, speaking to Kennedy, "have I not always toldyou, and was I not right, that at the bottom of their hearts they wantedto do this? and did I not see clearly through all their procedure theend they had in view, and know well enough that I was too great anobstacle to their false religion to be allowed to live? Come, " continuedshe, "hasten supper now, that I may put my affairs in order". Then, seeing that instead of obeying her, her servants were weeping andlamenting, "My children, " said she, with a sad smile, but without a tearin her eye, "it is no time for weeping, quite the contrary; for if youlove me, you ought to rejoice that the Lord, in making me die for Hiscause, relieves me from the torments I have endured for nineteen years. As for me, I thank Him for allowing me to die for the glory of His faithand His Church. Let each have patience, then, and while the men preparesupper, we women will pray to God. "

The men immediately went out, weeping and sobbing, and the queen andher women fell on their knees. When they had recited some prayers, Maryrose, and sending for all the money she had left, she counted it anddivided it into portions, which she put into purses with the name of thedestined recipient, in her handwriting, with the money. 

At that moment, supper being served, she seated herself at table withher women as usual, the other servants standing or coming and going, herdoctor waiting on her at table as he was accustomed since her stewardhad been taken from her. She ate no more nor less than usual, speaking, throughout supper, of the Earl of Kent, and of the way in which hebetrayed himself with respect to religion, by his insisting on wantingto give the queen a pastor instead of a priest. "Happily, " she added, laughing, "one more skilful than he was needed to change me". MeanwhileBourgoin was weeping behind the queen, for he was thinking that he wasserving her for the last time, and that she who was eating, talking, and laughing thus, next day at the same hour would be but a cold andinsensible corpse. 

When the meal was over, the queen sent for all her servants; then;before the table was cleared of anything, she poured out a cup of wine, rose and drank to their health, asking them if they would not drink toher salvation. Then she had a glass given to each one: all kneeled down, and all, says the account from which we borrow these details, drank, mingling their tears with the wine, and asking pardon of the queen forany wrongs they had done her. The queen granted it heartily, and askedthem to do as much for her, and to forget her impatient ways, which shebegged them to put down to her imprisonment. Then, having given them along discourse, in which she explained to them their duties to God, andexhorted them to persevere in the Catholic faith, she begged them, afterher death, to live together in peace and charity, forgetting all thepetty quarrels and disputes which they had had among one another in thepast. 

This speech ended, the queen rose from table, and desired to go into herwardrobe-room, to see the clothes and jewels she wished to dispose of;but Bourgoin observed that it would be better to have all these separateobjects brought into her chamber; that there would be a double advantagein this, she would be less tired for one thing, and the English wouldnot see them for another. This last reason decided her, and while theservants were supping, she had brought into her ante-room, first of all, all her robes, and took the inventory from her wardrobe attendant, andbegan to write in the margin beside each item the name of the person itwas to be given to. Directly, and as fast as she did it, that person towhom it was given took it and put it aside. As for the things which weretoo personal to her to be thus bestowed, she ordered that they shouldbe sold, and that the purchase-money should be used for her servants'travelling expenses, when they returned to their own countries, well knowing how great the cost would be and that no one would havesufficient means. This memorandum finished, she signed it, and gave itas a discharge to her wardrobe attendant. 

Then, that done, she went into her room, where had been brought herrings, her jewels, and her most valuable belongings; inspected them all, one after the other, down to the very least; and distributed them as shehad done her robes, so that, present or absent, everyone had something. Then she furthermore gave, to her most faithful people, the jewels sheintended for the king and queen of France, for the king her son, for thequeen-mother, for Messieurs de Guise and de Lorraine, without forgettingin this distribution any prince or princess among her relatives. Shedesired, besides, that each should keep the things then in his care, giving her linen to the young lady who looked after it, her silkembroideries to her who took charge of them, her silver plate to herbutler, and so on with the rest. 

Then, as they were asking her for a discharge, "It is useless, " saidshe; "you owe an account to me only, and to-morrow, therefore, you willno longer owe it to anyone"; but, as they pointed out that the king herson could claim from them, "You are right, " said she; and she gave themwhat they asked. 

That done, and having no hope left of being visited by her confessor, she wrote him this letter:

"I have been tormented all this day on account of my religion, andurged to receive the consolations of a heretic: you will learn, throughBourgoin and the others, that everything they could say on this matterhas been useless, that I have faithfully made protestation of thefaith in which I wish to die. I requested that you should be allowedto receive my confession and to give me the sacrament, which has beencruelly refused, as well as the removal of my body, and the power tomake my will freely; so that I cannot write anything except throughtheir hands, and with the good pleasure of their mistress. For want ofseeing you, then, I confess to you my sins in general, as I should havedone in particular, begging you, in God's name, to watch and praythis night with me, for the remission of my sins, and to send me yourabsolution and forgiveness for all the wrongs I have done you. I shalltry to see you in their presence, as they permitted it to my steward;and if it is allowed, before all, and on my knees, I shall ask yourblessing. Send me the best prayers you know for this night and forto-morrow morning; for the time is short, and I have not the leisure towrite; but be calm, I shall recommend you like the rest of my servants, and your benefices above all will be secured to you. Farewell, for Ihave not much more time. Send to me in writing everything you can find, best for my salvation, in prayers and exhortations, I send you my lastlittle ring. "

Directly she had written this letter the queen began to make her will, and at a stroke, with her pen running on and almost without liftingit from the paper, she wrote two large sheets, containing severalparagraphs, in which no one was forgotten, present as absent, distributing the little she had with scrupulous fairness, and still moreaccording to need than according to service. The executors she chosewere: the Duke of Guise, her first cousin; the Archbishop of Glasgow, her ambassador; the Bishop of Ross, her chaplain in chief; and M. DuRuysseau, her chancellor, all four certainly very worthy of the charge, the first from his authority; the two bishops by piety and conscience, and the last by his knowledge of affairs. Her will finished, she wrotethis letter to the King of France:

SIR MY BROTHER-IN-LAW, --Having, by God's permission and for my sins, Ibelieve, thrown myself into the arms of this queen, my cousin, where Ihave had much to endure for more than twenty years, I am by her andby her Parliament finally condemned to death; and having asked for mypapers, taken from me, to make my will, I have not been able to obtainanything to serve me, not even permission to write my last wishesfreely, nor leave that after my death my body should be transported, aswas my dearest desire, into your kingdom, where I had had the honour ofbeing queen, your sister and your ally. To-day, after dinner, withoutmore respect, my sentence has been declared to me, to be executedto-morrow, like a criminal, at eight o'clock in the morning. I have notthe leisure to give you a full account of what has occurred; but if itplease you to believe my doctor and these others my distressed servants, you will hear the truth, and that, thanks to God, I despise death, which I protest I receive innocent of every crime, even if I were theirsubject, which I never was. But my faith in the Catholic religion and myclaims to the crown of England are the real causes for my condemnation, and yet they will not allow me to say that it is for religion I die, formy religion kills theirs; and that is so true, that they have taken mychaplain from me, who, although a prisoner in the same castle, maynot come either to console me, or to give me the holy sacrament of theeucharist; but, on the contrary, they have made me urgent entreaties toreceive the consolations of their minister whom they have brought forthis purpose. He who will bring you this letter, and the rest of myservants, who are your subjects for the most part, will bear you witnessof the way in which I shall have performed my last act. Now it remainsto me to implore you, as a most Christian king, as my brother-in-law, asmy ancient ally, and one who has so often done me the honour to protestyour friendship for me, to give proof of this friendship, in your virtueand your charity, by helping me in that of which I cannot without youdischarge my conscience--that is to say, in rewarding my good distressedservants, by giving them their dues; then, in having prayers made to Godfor a queen who has been called most Christian, and who dies a Catholicand deprived of all her goods. As to my son, I commend him to you asmuch as he shall deserve, for I cannot answer for him; but as to myservants, I commend them with clasped hands. I have taken the liberty ofsending you two rare stones good for the health, hoping that yours maybe perfect during a long life; you will receive them as coming from yourvery affectionate sister-in-law, at the point of death and giving proofof her, good disposition towards you. 

"I shall commend my servants to you in a memorandum, and will order you, for the good of my soul, for whose salvation it will be employed, to payme a portion of what you owe me, if it please you, and I conjure you forthe honour of Jesus, to whom I shall pray to-morrow at my death, that you leave me the wherewithal to found a mass and to perform thenecessary charities. 

"This Wednesday, two hours after midnight--Your affectionate and goodsister, "MARY, R. . . . "

Of all these recommendations, the will and the letters, the queen atonce had copies made which she signed, so that, if some should be seizedby the English, the others might reach their destination. Bourgoinpointed out to her that she was wrong to be in such a hurry to closethem, and that perhaps in two or three hours she would remember that shehad left something out. But the queen paid no attention, saying she wassure she had not forgotten anything, and that if she had, she had onlytime now to pray and to look to her conscience. So she shut up all theseveral articles in the drawers of a piece of furniture and gave the keyto Bourgoin; then sending for a foot-bath, in which she stayed for aboutten minutes, she lay down in bed, where she was not seen to sleep, butconstantly to repeat prayers or to remain in meditation. 

Towards four o'clock in the morning, the queen, who was accustomed, after evening prayers, to have the story of some male or female saintread aloud to her, did not wish to depart from this habit, and, afterhaving hesitated among several for this solemn occasion, she chose thegreatest sinner of all, the penitent thief, saying humbly--

"If, great sinner as he was, he has yet sinned less than I, I desire tobeg of him, in remembrance of the passion of Jesus Christ; to, have pityon me in the hour of my death, as Our Lord had pity on him. "

Then, when the reading was over, she had all her handkerchiefs brought, and chose the finest, which was of delicate cambric all embroidered ingold, to bandage her eyes with. 

At daybreak, reflecting that she had only two hours to live, she roseand began dressing, but before she had finished, Bourgoin came intoher room, and, afraid lest the absent servants might murmur against thequeen, if by chance they were discontented at the will, and might accusethose who had been present of having taken away from their share toadd to their own, he begged Mary to send for them all and to read it intheir presence; to which Mary agreed, and consented to do so at once. 

All the servants were then summoned, and the queen read her testament, saying that it was done of her own free, full and entire will, writtenand signed with her own hand, and that accordingly she begged thosepresent to give all the help in their power in seeing it carried outwithout change or omission; then, having read it over, and havingreceived a promise from all, she gave it to Bourgoin, charging him tosend it to M. De Guise, her chief executor, and at the same timeto forward her letters to the king and her principal papers andmemorandums: after this, she had the casket brought in which she had putthe purses which we mentioned before; she opened them one afteranother, and seeing by the ticket within for whom each was intended, shedistributed them with her own hand, none of the recipients being awareof their contents. These gifts varied from twenty to three hundredcrowns; and to these sums she added seven hundred livres for the poor, namely, two hundred for the poor of England and five hundred for thepoor of France; then she gave to each man in her suite two rose noblesto be distributed in alms for her sake, and finally one hundred andfifty crowns to Bourgoin to be divided among them all when they shouldseparate; and thus twenty-six or twenty-seven people had money legacies. 

The queen performed all this with great composure and calmness, with noapparent change of countenance; so that it seemed as if she were onlypreparing for a journey or change of dwelling; then she again bade herservants farewell, consoling them and exhorting them to live in peace, all this while finishing dressing as well and as elegantly as she could. 

Her toilet ended, the queen went from her reception-room to herante-room, where there was an altar set up and arranged, at which, before he had been taken from her, her chaplain used to say mass; andkneeling on the steps, surrounded by all her servants, she began thecommunion prayers, and when they were ended, drawing from a golden box ahost consecrated by Pius V, which she had always scrupulously preservedfor the occasion of her death, she told Bourgoin to take it, and, ashe was the senior, to take the priest's place, old age being holy andsacred; and in this manner in spite of all the precautions takento deprive her of it, the queen received the holy sacrament of theeucharist. 

This pious ceremony ended, Bourgoin told the queen that in her will shehad forgotten three people--Mesdemoiselles Beauregard, de Montbrun, andher chaplain. The queen was greatly astonished at this oversight, whichwas quite involuntary, and, taking back her will, she wrote her wisheswith respect to them in the first empty margin; then she kneeled downagain in prayer; but after a moment, as she suffered too much in thisposition, she rose, and Bourgoin having had brought her a little breadand wine, she ate and drank, and when she had finished, gave him herhand and thanked him for having been present to help her at her lastmeal as he was accustomed; and feeling stronger, she kneeled down andbegan to pray again. 

Scarcely had she done so, than there was a knocking at the door: thequeen understood what was required of her; but as she had not finishedpraying, she begged those who were come to fetch her to wait a moment, and in a few minutes' she would be ready. 

The Earls of Kent and Shrewsbury, remembering the resistance she hadmade when she had had to go down to the commissioners and appear beforethe lawyers, mounted some guards in the ante-room where they werewaiting themselves, so that they could take her away by force ifnecessary, should she refuse to come willingly, or should her servantswant to defend her; but it is untrue that the two barons entered herroom, as some have said. They only set foot there once, on the occasionwhich we have related, when they came to apprise her of her sentence. 

They waited some minutes, nevertheless, as the queen had begged them;then, about eight o'clock, they knocked again, accompanied by theguards; but to their great surprise the door was opened immediately, andthey found Mary on her knees in prayer. Upon this, Sir Thomas Andrew, who was at the time sheriff of the county of Nottingham, entered alone, a white wand in his hand, and as everyone stayed on their knees praying, he crossed the room with a slow step and stood behind the queen: hewaited a moment there, and as Mary Stuart did not seem to see him--

"Madam, " said he, "the earls have sent me to you. "

At these words the queen turned round, and at once rising in the middleof her prayer, "Let us go, " she replied, and she made ready to followhim; then Bourgoin, taking the cross of black wood with an ivory Christwhich was over the altar, said--

"Madam, would you not like to take this little cross?"

"Thank you for having reminded me, " Mary answered; "I had intended to, but I forgot". Then, giving it to Annibal Stewart, her footman, that hemight present it when she should ask for it, she began to move tothe door, and on account of the great pain in her limbs, leaning onBourgoin, who, as they drew near, suddenly let her go, saying--

"Madam, your Majesty knows if we love you, and all, such as we are, areready to obey you, should you command us to die for you; but I, I havenot the strength to lead you farther; besides, it is not becoming thatwe, who should be defending you to the last drop of our blood, shouldseem to be betraying you in giving you thus into the hands of theseinfamous English. "

"You are right, Bourgoin, " said the queen; "moreover, my death wouldbe a sad sight for you, which I ought to spare your age and yourfriendship. Mr. Sheriff, " added she, "call someone to support me, foryou see that I cannot walk. "

The sheriff bowed, and signed to two guards whom he had kept hiddenbehind the door to lend him assistance in case the queen should resist, to approach and support her; which they at once did; and Mary Stuartwent on her way, preceded and followed by her servants weeping andwringing their hands. But at the second door other guards stopped them, telling them they must go no farther. They all cried out against such aprohibition: they said that for the nineteen years they had been shut upwith the queen they had always accompanied her wherever she went; thatit was frightful to deprive their mistress of their services at the lastmoment, and that such an order had doubtless been given because theywanted to practise some shocking cruelty on her, of which they desiredno witnesses. Bourgoin, who was at their head, seeing that he couldobtain nothing by threats or entreaties, asked to speak with the earls;but this claim was not allowed either, and as the servants wantedto pass by force, the soldiers repulsed them with blows of theirarquebuses; then, raising her voice--

"It is wrong of you to prevent my servants following me, " said thequeen, "and I begin to think, like them, that you have some ill designsupon me beyond my death. "

The sheriff replied, "Madam, four of your servants are chosen to followyou, and no more; when you have come down, they will be fetched, andwill rejoin you. "

"What!" said the queen, "the four chosen persons cannot even follow menow?"

"The order is thus given by the earls, " answered the sheriff, "and, tomy great regret, madam, I can do nothing. "

Then the queen turned to them, and taking the cross from AnnibalStewart, and in her other hand her book of Hours and her handkerchief, "My children, " said she, "this is one more grief to add to our othergriefs; let us bear it like Christians, and offer this fresh sacrificeto God. "

At these words sobs and cries burst forth on all sides: the unhappyservants fell on their knees, and while some rolled on the ground, tearing their hair, others kissed her hands, her knees, and the hem ofher gown, begging her forgiveness for every possible fault, callingher their mother and bidding her farewell. Finding, no doubt, that thisscene was lasting too long, the sheriff made a sign, and the soldierspushed the men and women back into the room and shut the door on them;still, fast as was the door, the queen none the less heard their criesand lamentations, which seemed, in spite of the guards, as if they wouldaccompany her to the scaffold. 

At the stair-head, the queen found Andrew Melville awaiting her: he wasthe Master of her Household, who had been secluded from her forsome time, and who was at last permitted to see her once more to sayfarewell. The queen, hastening her steps, approached him, and kneelingdown to receive his blessing, which he gave her, weeping--

"Melville, " said she, without rising, and addressing him as "thou" forthe first time, "as thou hast been an honest servant to me, be the sameto my son: seek him out directly after my death, and tell him of it inevery detail; tell him that I wish him well, and that I beseech God tosend him His Holy Spirit. "

"Madam, " replied Melville, "this is certainly the saddest message withwhich a man can be charged: no matter, I shall faithfully fulfil it, Iswear to you. "

"What sayest thou, Melville?" responded the queen, rising; "and whatbetter news canst thou bear, on the contrary, than that I am deliveredfrom all my ills? Tell him that he should rejoice, since the sufferingsof Mary Stuart are at an end; tell him that I die a Catholic, constantin my religion, faithful to Scotland and France, and that I forgivethose who put me to death. Tell him that I have always desired the unionof England and Scotland; tell him, finally, that I have done nothinginjurious to his kingdom, to his honour, or to his rights. And thus, good Melville, till we meet again in heaven. "

Then, leaning on the old man, whose face was bathed in tears, shedescended the staircase, at the foot of which she found the two earls, Sir Henry Talbot, Lord Shrewsbury's son, Amyas Paulet, Drue Drury, Robert Beale, and many gentlemen of the neighbourhood: the queen, advancing towards them without pride, but without humility, complainedthat her servants had been refused permission to follow her, and askedthat it should be granted. The lords conferred together; and a momentafter the Earl of Kent inquired which ones she desired to have, saying she might be allowed six. So the queen chose from among the menBourgoin, Gordon, Gervais, and Didier; and from the women Jeanne Kennedyand Elspeth Curle, the ones she preferred to all, though the latter wassister to the secretary who had betrayed her. But here arose a freshdifficulty, the earls saying that this permission did not extend towomen, women not being used to be present at such sights, and when theywere, usually upsetting everyone with cries and lamentations, and, assoon as the decapitation was over, rushing to the scaffold to staunchthe blood with their handkerchiefs--a most unseemly proceeding. 

"My lords, " then said the queen, "I answer and promise for my servants, that they will not do any of the things your honours fear. Alas! poorpeople! they would be very glad to bid me farewell; and I hope that yourmistress, being a maiden queen, and accordingly sensitive for the honourof women, has not given you such strict orders that you are unable togrant me the little I ask; so much the more, " added she in a profoundlymournful tone, "that my rank should be taken into consideration; forindeed I am your queen's cousin, granddaughter of Henry VII, QueenDowager of France and crowned Queen of Scotland. "

The lords consulted together for another moment, and granted herdemands. Accordingly, two guards went up immediately to fetch the chosenindividuals. 

The queen then moved on to the great hall, leaning on two of Sir AmyasPaulet's gentlemen, accompanied and followed by the earls and lords, thesheriff walking before her, and Andrew Melville bearing her train. Herdress, as carefully chosen as possible, as we have said, consisted ofa coif of fine cambric, trimmed with lace, with a lace veil thrown backand falling to the ground behind. She wore a cloak of black stampedsatin lined with black taffetas and trimmed in front with sable, with along train and sleeves hanging to the ground; the buttons were of jetin the shape of acorns and surrounded with pearls, her collar in theItalian style; her doublet was of figured black satin, and underneathshe wore stays, laced behind, in crimson satin, edged with velvet of thesame colour; a gold cross hung by a pomander chain at her neck, and tworosaries at her girdle: it was thus she entered the great hall where thescaffold was erected. 

It was a platform twelve feet wide, raised about two feet from thefloor, surrounded with barriers and covered with black serge, and on itwere a little chair, a cushion to kneel on, and a block also coveredin black. Just as, having mounted the steps, she set foot on the fatalboards, the executioner came forward, and; asking forgiveness for theduty he was about to perform, kneeled, hiding behind him his axe. Marysaw it, however, and cried--

"Ah! I would rather have been beheaded in the French way, with asword!. . . "

"It is not my fault, madam, " said the executioner, "if this last wishof your Majesty cannot be fulfilled; but, not having been instructed tobring a sword, and having found this axe here only, I am obliged to useit. Will that prevent your pardoning me, then?"

"I pardon you, my friend, " said Mary, "and in proof of it, here is myhand to kiss. "

The executioner put his lips to the queen's hand, rose and approachedthe chair. Mary sat down, and the Earls of Kent and Shrewsbury standingon her left, the sheriff and his officers before her, Amyas Pauletbehind, and outside the barrier the lords, knights, and gentlemen, numbering nearly two hundred and fifty, Robert Beale for the second timeread the warrant for execution, and as he was beginning the servantswho had been fetched came into the hall and placed themselves behind thescaffold, the men mounted upon a bench put back against the wall, andthe women kneeling in front of it; and a little spaniel, of which thequeen was very fond, came quietly, as if he feared to be driven away, and lay down near his mistress. 

The queen listened to the reading of the warrant without seeming topay much attention, as if it had concerned someone else, and with acountenance as calm and even as joyous as if it had been a pardon andnot a sentence of death; then, when Beale had ended, and having ended, cried in a loud voice, "God save Queen Elizabeth!" to which no one madeany response, Mary signed herself with the cross, and, rising withoutany change of expression, and, on the contrary, lovelier than ever--

"My lords, " said she, "I am a queen-born sovereign princess, and notsubject to law, --a near relation of the Queen of England, and herrightful heir; for a long time I have been a prisoner in this country, I have suffered here much tribulation and many evils that no one hadthe right to inflict, and now, to crown all, I am about to lose my life. Well, my lords, bear witness that I die in the Catholic faith, thankingGod for letting me die for His holy cause, and protesting, to-day asevery day, in public as in private, that I have never plotted, consentedto, nor desired the queen's death, nor any other thing against herperson; but that, on the contrary, I have always loved her, and havealways offered her good and reasonable conditions to put an end to thetroubles of the kingdom and deliver me from my captivity, without myhaving ever been honoured with a reply from her; and all this, my lords, you well know. Finally, my enemies have attained their end, which wasto put me to death: I do not pardon them less for it than I pardonall those who have attempted anything against me. After my death, theauthors of it will be known. But I die without accusing anyone, for fearthe Lord should hear me and avenge me. "

Upon this, whether he was afraid that such a speech by so great a queenshould soften the assembly too much, or whether he found that allthese words were making too much delay, the Dean of Peterborough placedhimself before Mary, and, leaning on the barrier--

"Madam, " he said, "my much honoured mistress has commanded me to come toyou--" But at these words, Mary, turning and interrupting him:

"Mr. Dean, " she answered in a loud voice, "I have nothing to do withyou; I do not wish to hear you, and beg you to withdraw. "

"Madam, " said the dean, persisting in spite of this resolve expressed insuch firm and precise terms, "you have but a moment longer: change youropinions, abjure your errors, and put your faith in Jesus Christ alone, that you may be saved through Him. "

"Everything you can say is useless, " replied the queen, "and you willgain nothing by it; be silent, then, I beg you, and let me die inpeace. "

And as she saw that he wanted to go on, she sat down on the other sideof the chair and turned her back to him; but the dean immediately walkedround the scaffold till he faced her again; then, as he was going tospeak, the queen turned about once more, and sat as at first. Seeingwhich the Earl of Shrewsbury said--

"Madam, truly I despair that you are so attached to this folly ofpapacy: allow us, if it please you, to pray for you. "

"My lord, " the queen answered, "if you desire to pray for me, I thankyou, for the intention is good; but I cannot join in your prayers, forwe are not of the same religion. "

The earls then called the dean, and while the queen, seated in herlittle chair, was praying in a low tone, he, kneeling on the scaffoldsteps, prayed aloud; and the whole assembly except the queen and herservants prayed after him; then, in the midst of her orison, which shesaid with her Agnus Dei round her neck, a crucifix in one hand, and herbook of Hours in the other, she fell from her seat on to, her knees, praying aloud in Latin, whilst the others prayed in English, and whenthe others were silent, she continued in English in her turn, so thatthey could hear her, praying for the afflicted Church of Christ, for anend to the persecution of Catholics, and for the happiness of her son'sreign; then she said, in accents full of faith and fervour, that shehoped to be saved by the merits of Jesus Christ, at the foot of whosecross she was going to shed her blood. 

At these words the Earl of Kent could no longer contain himself, andwithout respect for the sanctity of the moment--

"Oh, madam, " said he, "put Jesus Christ in your heart, and reject allthis rubbish of popish deceptions. "

But she, without listening, went on, praying the saints to intercedewith God for her, and kissing the crucifix, she cried--

"Lord! Lord! receive me in Thy arms out stretched on the cross, andforgive me all my sins!"

Thereupon, --she being again seated in the chair, the Earl of Kent askedher if she had any confession to make; to which she replied that, notbeing guilty of anything, to confess would be to give herself, the lie. 

"It is well, " the earl answered; "then, madam, prepare. "

The queen rose, and as the executioner approached to assist herdisrobe--

"Allow me, my friend, " said she; "I know how to do it better than you, and am not accustomed to undress before so many spectators, nor to beserved by such valets. "

And then, calling her two women, she began to unpin her coiffure, and asJeanne Kennedy and Elspeth Curle, while performing this last service fortheir mistress, could not help weeping bitterly--

"Do not weep, " she said to them in French; "for I have promised andanswered for you. "

With these words, she made the sign of the cross upon the forehead ofeach, kissed them, and recommended them to pray for her. 

Then the queen began to undress, herself assisting, as she was wont todo when preparing for bed, and taking the gold cross from her neck, shewished to give it to Jeanne, saying to the executioner--

"My friend, I know that all I have upon me belongs to you; but this isnot in your way: let me bestow it, if you please, on this young lady, and she will give you twice its value in money. "

But the executioner, hardly allowing her to finish, snatched it from herhands with--

"It is my right. "

The queen was not moved much by this brutality, and went on taking offher garments until she was simply in her petticoat. 

Thus rid of all her garb, she again sat down, and Jeanne Kennedyapproaching her, took from her pocket the handkerchief ofgold-embroidered cambric which she had prepared the night before, andbound her eyes with it; which the earls, lords; and gentlemen lookedupon with great surprise, it not being customary in England, and as shethought that she was to be beheaded in the French way--that is to say, seated in the chair--she held herself upright, motionless, and with herneck stiffened to make it easier for the executioner, who, for his part, not knowing how to proceed, was standing, without striking, axe inhand: at last the man laid his hand on the queen's head, and drawingher forward, made her fall on her knees: Mary then understood what wasrequired of her, and feeling for the block with her hands, which werestill holding her book of Hours and her crucifix, she laid her neck onit, her hands joined beneath her chin, that she might pray till the lastmoment: the executioner's assistant drew them away, for fear they shouldbe cut off with her head; and as the queen was saying, "In manes teas, Domine, " the executioner raised his axe, which was simply an axe farchopping wood, and struck the first blow, which hit too high, andpiercing the skull, made the crucifix and the book fly from thecondemned's hands by its violence, but which did not sever the head. However, stunned with the blow, the queen made no movement, which gavethe executioner time to redouble it; but still the head did not fall, and a third stroke was necessary to detach a shred of flesh which heldit to the shoulders. 

At last, when the head was quite severed, the executioner held it up toshow to the assembly, saying:

"God save Queen Elizabeth!"

"So perish all Her Majesty's enemies!" responded the Dean ofPeterborough. 

"Amen, " said the Earl of Kent; but he was the only one: no other voicecould respond, for all were choked with sobs. 

At that moment the queen's headdress falling, disclosed her hair, cutvery short, and as white as if she had been aged seventy: as to herface, it had so changed during her death-agony that no one would haverecognised it had he not known it was hers. The spectators cried outaloud at this sign; for, frightful to see, the eyes were open, andthe lids went on moving as if they would still pray, and this muscularmovement lasted for more than a quarter of an hour after the head hadbeen cut off. 

The queen's servants had rushed upon the scaffold, picking up the bookof Hours and the crucifix as relics; and Jeanne Kennedy, rememberingthe little dog who had come to his mistress, looked about for him on allsides, seeking him and calling him, but she sought and called in vain. He had disappeared. 

At that moment, as one of the executioners was untying the queen'sgarters, which were of blue satin embroidered in silver, he saw thepoor little animal, which had hidden in her petticoat, and which he wasobliged to bring out by force; then, having escaped from his hands, it took refuge between the queen's shoulders and her head, which theexecutioner had laid down near the trunk. Jeanne took him then, in spiteof his howls, and carried him away, covered with blood; for everyone hadjust been ordered to leave the hall. Bourgoin and Gervais stayed behind, entreating Sir Amyas Paulet to let them take the queen's heart, thatthey might carry it to France, as they had promised her; but they wereharshly refused and pushed out of the hall, of which all the doors wereclosed, and there there remained only the executioner and the corpse. 

Brantome relates that something infamous took place there!

CHAPTER X

Two hours after the execution, the body and the head were taken into thesame hall in which Mary Stuart had appeared before the commissioners, set down on a table round which the judges had sat, and covered overwith a black serge cloth; and there remained till three o'clock in theafternoon, when Waters the doctor from Stamford and the surgeon fromFotheringay village came to open and embalm them--an operation whichthey carried out under the eyes of Amyas Paulet and his soldiers, without any respect for the rank and sex of the poor corpse, which wasthus exposed to the view of anyone who wanted to see it: it is truethat this indignity did not fulfil its proposed aim; for a rumour spreadabout that the queen had swollen limbs and was dropsical, while, on thecontrary, there was not one of the spectators but was obliged to confessthat he had never seen the body of a young girl in the bloom of healthpurer and lovelier than that of Mary Stuart, dead of a violent deathafter nineteen years of suffering and captivity. 

When the body was opened, the spleen was in its normal state, with theveins a little livid only, the lungs yellowish in places, and the brainone-sixth larger than is usual in persons of the same age and sex;thus everything promised a long life to her whose end had just been socruelly hastened. 

A report having been made of the above, the body was embalmed after afashion, put in a leaden coffin and that in another of wood, which wasleft on the table till the first day of August--that is, for nearly fivemonths--before anyone was allowed to come near it; and not only that, but the English having noticed that Mary Stuart's unhappy servants, who were still detained as prisoners, went to look at it through thekeyhole, stopped that up in such a way that they could not even gaze atthe coffin enclosing the body of her whom they had so greatly loved. 

However, one hour after Mary Stuart's death, Henry Talbot, who had beenpresent at it, set out at full speed for London, carrying to Elizabeththe account of her rival's death; but at the very first lines she read, Elizabeth, true to her character, cried out in grief and indignation, saying that her orders had been misunderstood, that there had been toogreat haste, and that all this was the fault of Davison the Secretaryof State, to whom she had given the warrant to keep till she had made upher mind, but not to send to Fotheringay. Accordingly, Davison wassent to the Tower and condemned to pay a fine of ten thousand poundssterling, for having deceived the queen. Meanwhile, amid all this grief, an embargo was laid on all vessels in all the ports of the realm, sothat the news of the death should not reach abroad, especially France, except through skilful emissaries who could place the execution in theleast unfavourable light for Elizabeth. At the same time the scandalouspopular festivities which had marked the announcement of the sentenceagain celebrated the tidings of the execution. London was illuminated, bonfires lit, and the enthusiasm was such that the French Embassy wasbroken into and wood taken to revive the fires when they began to diedown. 

Crestfallen at this event, M. De Chateauneuf was still shut up atthe Embassy, when, a fortnight later, he received an invitation fromElizabeth to visit her at the country house of the Archbishop ofCanterbury. M. De Chateauneuf went thither with the firm resolve tosay no word to her on what had happened; but as soon as she saw him, Elizabeth, dressed in black, rose, went to him, and, overwhelming himwith kind attentions, told him that she was ready to place all thestrength of her kingdom at Henry III's disposal to help him put downthe League. Chateauneuf received all these offers with a cold and severeexpression, without saying, as he had promised himself, a single wordabout the event which had put both the queen and himself into mourning. But, taking him by the hand, she drew him aside, and there, with deepsighs, said--

"Ah! sir, since I saw you the greatest misfortune which could befall mehas happened: I mean the death of my good sister, the Queen of Scotland, of which I swear by God Himself, my soul and my salvation, that Iam perfectly innocent. I had signed the order, it is true; but mycounsellors have played me a trick for which I cannot calm myself; andI swear to God that if it were not for their long service I would havethem beheaded. I have a woman's frame, sir, but in this woman's framebeats a man's heart. "

Chateauneuf bowed without a response; but his letter to Henry III andHenry's answer prove that neither the one nor the other was the dupe ofthis female Tiberius. 

Meanwhile, as we have said, the unfortunate servants were prisoners, and the poor body was in that great hall waiting for a royal interment. Things remained thus, Elizabeth said, to give her time to order asplendid funeral for her good sister Mary, but in reality because thequeen dared not place in juxtaposition the secret and infamous deathand the public and royal burial; then, was not time needed for the firstreports which it pleased Elizabeth to spread to be credited before thetruth should be known by the mouths of the servants? For the queen hopedthat once this careless world had made up its mind about the death ofthe Queen of Scots, it would not take any further trouble to change it. Finally, it was only when the warders were as tired as the prisoners, that Elizabeth, having received a report stating that the ill-embalmedbody could no longer be kept, at last ordered the funeral to take place. 

Accordingly, after the 1st of August, tailors and dressmakers arrived atFotheringay Castle, sent by Elizabeth, with cloth and black silk stuffs, to clothe in mourning all Mary's servants. But they refused, not havingwaited for the Queen of England's bounty, but having made their funeralgarments at their own expense, immediately after their mistress's death. The tailors and dressmakers, however, none the less set so actively towork that on the 7th everything was finished. 

Next day, at eight o'clock in the evening, a large chariot, drawn byfour horses in mourning trappings, and covered with black velvet likethe chariot, which was, besides, adorned with little streamers on whichwere embroidered the arms of Scotland, those of the queen, and the armsof Aragon, those of Darnley, stopped at the gate of Fotheringay Castle. It was followed by the herald king, accompanied by twenty gentlemen onhorseback, with their servants and lackeys, all dressed in mourning, who, having alighted, mounted with his whole train into the room wherethe body lay, and had it brought down and put into the chariot with allpossible respect, each of the spectators standing with bared head and inprofound silence. 

This visit caused a great stir among the prisoners, who debated a whilewhether they ought not to implore the favour of being allowed to followtheir mistress's body, which they could not and should not let go alonethus; but just as they were about to ask permission to speak to theherald king, he entered the room where they were assembled, and toldthem that he was charged by his mistress, the august Queen of England, to give the Queen of Scotland the most honourable funeral he could;that, not wishing to fail in such a high undertaking, he had alreadymade most of the preparations for the ceremony, which was to take placeon the 10th of August, that is to say, two days later, --but that theleaden shell in which the body was enclosed being very heavy, it wasbetter to move it beforehand, and that night, to where the grave wasdug, than to await the day of the interment itself; that thus they mightbe easy, this burial of the shell being only a preparatory ceremony; butthat if some of them would like to accompany the corpse, to see whatwas done with it, they were at liberty, and that those who stayed behindcould follow the funeral pageant, Elizabeth's positive desire being thatall, from first to last, should be present in the funeral procession. This assurance calmed the unfortunate prisoners, who deputed Bourgoin, Gervais, and six others to follow their mistress's body: thesewere Andrew Melville, Stewart, Gorjon, Howard, Lauder, and NicholasDelamarre. 

At ten o'clock at night they set out, walking behind the chariot, preceded by the herald, accompanied by men on foot, who carried torchesto light the way, and followed by twenty gentlemen and theirservants. In this manner, at two o'clock in the morning, they reachedPeterborough, where there is a splendid cathedral built by an ancientSaxon king, and in which, on the left of the choir, was already interredgood Queen Catharine of Aragon, wife of Henry VIII, and where was hertomb, still decked with a canopy bearing her arms. 

On arriving, they found the cathedral all hung with black, with a domeerected in the middle of the choir, much in the way in which 'chapellesardentes' are set up in France, except that there were no lightedcandles round it. This dome was covered with black velvet, and overlaidwith the arms of Scotland and Aragon, with streamers like those on thechariot yet again repeated. The state coffin was already set up underthis dome: it was a bier, covered like the rest in black velvet fringedwith silver, on which was a pillow of the same supporting a royal crown. 

To the right of this dome, and in front of the burial-place of QueenCatharine of Aragon, Mary of Scotland's sepulchre had been dug: it wasa grave of brick, arranged to be covered later with a slab or a marbletomb, and in which was to be deposited the coffin, which the Bishop ofPeterborough, in his episcopal robes, but without his mitre, cross, or cope, was awaiting at the door, accompanied by his dean and severalother clergy. The body was brought into the cathedral, without chant orprayer, and was let down into the tomb amid a profound silence. Directlyit was placed there, the masons, who had stayed their hands, set towork again, closing the grave level with the floor, and only leaving anopening of about a foot and a half, through which could be seen what waswithin, and through which could be thrown on the coffin, as is customaryat the obsequies of kings, the broken staves of the officers and theensigns and banners with their arms. This nocturnal ceremony ended, Melville, Bourgoin, and the other deputies were taken to the bishop'spalace, where the persons appointed to take part in the funeralprocession were to assemble, in number more than three hundred andfifty, all chosen, with the exception of the servants, from among theauthorities, the nobility, and Protestant clergy. 

The day following, Thursday, August the 9th, they began to hang thebanqueting halls with rich and sumptuous stuffs, and that in the sightof Melville, Bourgoin, and the others, whom they had brought thither, less to be present at the interment of Queen Mary than to bear witnessto the magnificence of Queen Elizabeth. But, as one may suppose, the unhappy prisoners were indifferent to this splendour, great andextraordinary as it was. 

On Friday, August 10th, all the chosen persons assembled at the bishop'spalace: they ranged themselves in the appointed order, and turned theirsteps to the cathedral, which was close by. When they arrived there, they took the places assigned them in the choir, and the choristersimmediately began to chant a funeral service in English and according toProtestant rites. At the first words of this service, when he saw itwas not conducted by Catholic priests, Bourgoin left the cathedral, declaring that he would not be present at such sacrilege, and he wasfollowed by all Mary's servants, men and women, except Melville andBarbe Mowbray, who thought that whatever the tongue in which one prayed, that tongue was heard by the Lord. This exit created great scandal; butthe bishop preached none the less. 

The sermon ended, the herald king went to seek Bourgoin and hiscompanions, who were walking in the cloisters, and told them thatthe almsgiving was about to begin, inviting them to take part in thisceremony; but they replied that being Catholics they could not makeofferings at an altar of which they disapproved. So the herald kingreturned, much put out at the harmony of the assembly being disturbed bythis dissent; but the alms-offering took place no less than the sermon. Then, as a last attempt, he sent to them again, to tell them that theservice was quite over, and that accordingly they might return for theroyal ceremonies, which belonged only to the religion of the dead; andthis time they consented; but when they arrived, the staves were broken, and the banners thrown into the grave through the opening that theworkmen had already closed. 

Then, in the same order in which it had come, the procession returnedto the palace, where a splendid funeral repast had been prepared. By astrange contradiction, Elizabeth, who, having punished the living womanas a criminal, had just treated the dead woman as a queen, had alsowished that the honours of the funeral banquet should be for theservants, so long forgotten by her. But, as one can imagine, these illaccommodated themselves to that intention, did not seem astonishedat this luxury nor rejoiced at this good cheer, but, on the contrary, drowned their bread and wine in tears, without otherwise responding tothe questions put to them or the honours granted them. And as soon asthe repast was ended, the poor servants left Peterborough and took theroad back to Fotheringay, where they heard that they were free at lastto withdraw whither they would. They did not need to be told twice; forthey lived in perpetual fear, not considering their lives safe so longas they remained in England. They therefore immediately collected alltheir belongings, each taking his own, and thus went out of FotheringayCastle on foot, Monday, 13th August, 1587. 

Bourgoin went last: having reached the farther side of the drawbridge, he turned, and, Christian as he was, unable to forgive Elizabeth, notfor his own sufferings, but for his mistress's, he faced about to thoseregicide walls, and, with hands outstretched to them, said in a loud andthreatening voice, those words of David: "Let vengeance for the bloodof Thy servants, which has been shed, O Lord God, be acceptable inThy sight". The old man's curse was heard, and inflexible history isburdened with Elizabeth's punishment. 

We said that the executioner's axe, in striking Mary Stuart's head, hadcaused the crucifix and the book of Hours which she was holding to flyfrom her hands. We also said that the two relics had been picked upby people in her following. We are not aware of what became of thecrucifix, but the book of Hours is in the royal library, where thosecurious about these kinds of historical souvenirs can see it: twocertificates inscribed on one of the blank leaves of the volumedemonstrate its authenticity. These are they:

 FIRST CERTIFICATE

"We the undersigned Vicar Superior of the strict observance of the Orderof Cluny, certify that this book has been entrusted to us by order ofthe defunct Dom Michel Nardin, a professed religious priest of our saidobservance, deceased in our college of Saint-Martial of Avignon, March28th, 1723, aged about eighty years, of which he has spent about thirtyamong us, having lived very religiously: he was a German by birth, andhad served as an officer in the army a long time. 

"He entered Cluny, and made his profession there, much detached fromall this world's goods and honours; he only kept, with his superior'spermission, this book, which he knew had been in use with Mary Stuart, Queen of England and Scotland, to the end of her life. 

"Before dying and being parted from his brethren, he requested that, tobe safely remitted to us, it should be sent us by mail, sealed. Justas we have received it, we have begged M. L'abbe Bignon, councillor ofstate and king's librarian, to accept this precious relic of the pietyof a Queen of England, and of a German officer of her religion as wellas of ours. 

"(Signed) BROTHER GERARD PONCET, "Vicar-General Superior. "

 SECOND CERTIFICATE

"We, Jean-Paul Bignon, king's librarian, are very happy to have anopportunity of exhibiting our zeal, in placing the said manuscript inHis Majesty's library. 

"8th July, 1724. "

"(Signed) JEAN-PAUL BIGNAN. "

This manuscript, on which was fixed the last gaze of the Queen ofScotland, is a duodecimo, written in the Gothic character and containingLatin prayers; it is adorned with miniatures set off with gold, representing devotional subjects, stories from sacred history, or fromthe lives of saints and martyrs. Every page is encircled with arabesquesmingled with garlands of fruit and flowers, amid which spring upgrotesque figures of men and animals. 

As to the binding, worn now, or perhaps even then, to the woof, it is inblack velvet, of which the flat covers are adorned in the centre withan enamelled pansy, in a silver setting surrounded by a wreath, to whichare diagonally attached from one corner of the cover to the other, twotwisted silver-gilt knotted cords, finished by a tuft at the two ends.