admitted to audience yesterday. Vexed, agitated, embittered as Elizabeth
had been by the news brought to her the night before, she had kept her
wardrobers and seamstresses at work the whole night to alter a white
satin habit to the simplicity and style of that which Angele had worn.

"What think you of my gown, my lady refugee?" she said to Angele at
last, as the Gentlemen Pensioners paraded in the space below, followed by
the Knights Tilters--at their head the Queen's Champion, Sir Henry Lee:
twenty-five of the most gallant and favoured of the courtiers of
Elizabeth, including the gravest of her counsellors and the youngest
gallant who had won her smile, Master Christopher Hatton. Some of these
brave suitors, taken from the noblest families, had appeared in the tilt-
yard every anniversary of the year of her accession, and had lifted their
romantic office, which seemed but the service of enamoured knights, into
an almost solemn dignity.

The vast crowd disposed itself around the great improvised yard where the
Knights Tilters were to engage, and the Queen, followed by her retinue,
descended to the dais which had been set up near the palace. Her white
satin gown, roped with pearls only at the neck and breast, glistened in
the bright sun, and her fair hair took on a burnished radiance. As
Angele passed with her in the gorgeous procession, she could not but view
the scene with admiring eye, albeit her own sweet sober attire, a pearly
grey, seemed little in keeping; for the ladies and lords were most richly
attired, and the damask and satin cloaks, crimson velvet gowns, silk
hoods, and jewelled swords and daggers made a brave show. She was like
some moth in a whorl of butterflies.

Her face was pale, and her eye had a curious disturbed look, as though
they had seen frightening things. The events of last evening had tried