the occasion of this revolution be a great one; the most trivial event
may produce the great fire which burns up wisdom, prudence and habit.

The Earl of Leicester, so long counted astute, clearheaded, and well-
governed, had been suddenly foisted out of balance, shaken from his
imperious composure, tortured out of an assumed and persistent urbanity,
by the presence in Greenwich Palace of a Huguenot exile of no seeming
importance, save what the Medici grimly gave him by desiring his head.
It appeared absurd that the great Leicester, whose nearness to the throne
had made him the most feared, most notable, and, by virtue of his
opportunities, the most dramatic figure in England, should have sleepless
nights by reason of a fugitive like Michel de la Foret. On the surface
it was preposterous that he should see in the Queen's offer of service to
the refugee evidence that she was set to grant him special favours; it
was equally absurd that her offer of safety to him on pledge of his
turning preacher should seem proof that she meant to have him near her.
Elizabeth had left the presence-chamber without so much as a glance at
him, though she had turned and looked graciously at the stranger. He had
hastily followed her, and thereafter impatiently awaited a summons which
never came, though he had sent a message that his hours were at her
Majesty's disposal. Waiting, he saw Angele's father escorted from the
palace by a Gentleman Pensioner to a lodge in the park; he saw Michel de
la Foret taken to his apartments; he saw the Seigneur of Rozel walking in
the palace grounds with such possession as though they were his own,
self-content in every motion of his body.

Upon the instant the great Earl was incensed out of all proportion to the
affront of the Seigneur's existence. He suddenly hated Lempriere only
less than he hated Michel de la Foret. As he still waited irritably for
a summons from Elizabeth, he brooded on every word and every look she had