time got an heir to the throne with which we are ever in kinship and
alliance, and I in my time shall give ye your heart's desire."

Angele, who had, with palpitating heart and swimming head, seen Michel de
la Foret leave the lists and disappear among the trees, as mysteriously
as he came, was scarce conscious of the cheers and riotous delight that
followed Elizabeth's tactful if delusive speech to the people. A few
whispered words from the Duke's Daughter had told her that Michel had
obeyed the Queen's command in entering the lists and taking up the
challenge; and that she herself, carrying the royal message to him and
making arrangements for his accoutrement and mounting, had urged him to
obedience. She observed drily that he had needed little pressure, and
that his eyes had lighted at the prospect of the combat. Apart from his
innate love of fighting, he had realised that in the moment of declining
to enter the Queen's service he had been at a disadvantage, and that his
courage was open to attack by the incredulous or malicious. This would
have mattered little were it not that he had been given unusual
importance as a prisoner by the Queen's personal notice of himself. He
had, therefore, sprung to the acceptance, and sent his humble duty to the
Queen by her winsome messenger, who, with conspicuous dramatic skill, had
arranged secretly, with the help of a Gentleman Pensioner and the Master
of the Horse, his appearance and his exit. That all succeeded as she had
planned quickened her pulses, and made her heart still warmer to Angele,
who, now that all was over, and her Huguenot lover had gone his
mysterious ways, seemed lost in a troubled reverie.

It was a troubled reverie indeed, for Angele's eyes were on the stranger
who was present with Sir Andrew Melvill the night before. Her gaze upon
him now became fixed and insistent, for the sense of foreboding so heavy
on her deepened to a torturing suspense. Where had she seen this man