"That it please you, is
reason enough why you should marry . . . Whom did your Majesty
say?"
"Nay. I named no names. Yet one so astute might hazard a shrewd
guess." Half-challenging, half-coy, she eyed him over her fan.
"A guess? Nay, madame. I might affront your Majesty."
"How so?"
"If I were deluded by appearances. If I named a subject who
signally enjoys your royal favour."
"You mean Lord Robert Dudley." She paled a little, and her
bosom's heave was quickened. "Why should the guess affront me?"
"Because a queen--a wise queen, madame--does not mate with a
subject--particularly with one who has a wife already."
He had stung her. He had wounded at once the pride of the woman
and the dignity of the queen, yet in a way that made it difficult
for her to take direct offense. She bit her lip and mastered her
surge of anger. Then she laughed, a thought sneeringly.
"Why, as to my Lord Robert's wife, it seems you are less well-
informed than usual, sir. Lady Robert Dudley is dead, or very
nearly so."
And as blank amazement overspread his face, she passed upon her
way and left him.
But anon, considering, she grew vaguely uneasy, and that very
night expressed her afflicting doubt to my lord, reporting to him
de Quadra's words.
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