France. The passport for a priest of France was found upon your person
when our officers in Jersey made search of you. Which is yourself--
Michel de la Foret, soldier, or a priest of France?"

De la Foret replied gravely that he was a soldier, and that the priestly
dress had been but a disguise.

"In which papist attire, methinks, Michel de la Foret, soldier and
Huguenot, must have been ill at ease--the eagle with the vulture's wing.
What say you, Monsieur?"

"That vulture's wing hath carried me to a safe dove-cote, your gracious
Majesty," he answered, with a low obeisance.

"I'm none so sure of that, Monsieur," was Elizabeth's answer, and
she glanced quizzically at Leicester, who made a gesture of annoyance.
"Our cousin France makes you to us a dark intriguer and conspirator, a
dangerous weed in our good garden of England, a 'troublous, treacherous
violence'--such are you called, Monsieur."

"I am in your high Majesty's power," he answered, "to do with me as it
seemeth best. If your Majesty wills it that I be returned to France,
I pray you set me upon its coast as I came from it, a fugitive. Thence
will I try to find my way to the army and the poor stricken people of
whom I was. I pray for that only, and not to be given to the red hand of
the Medici."

"Red hand--by my faith, but you are bold, Monsieur!"

Leicester tapped his foot upon the floor impatiently, then caught the