"Thou art a fool, Varney, as well as a knave," said Leicester, shaking
him off, and rejecting his officious assistance. "We are best thus, sir;
when we require you to order our person, it is well, but now we want you
not."
So saying, the Earl resumed at once his air of command, and with it his
self-possession--shook his dress into yet wilder disorder--passed before
Varney with the air of a superior and master, and in his turn led the
way to the river-side.
The Queen's barge was on the very point of putting off, the seat
allotted to Leicester in the stern, and that to his master of the horse
on the bow of the boat, being already filled up. But on Leicester's
approach there was a pause, as if the bargemen anticipated some
alteration in their company. The angry spot was, however, on the Queen's
cheek, as, in that cold tone with which superiors endeavour to veil
their internal agitation, while speaking to those before whom it would
be derogation to express it, she pronounced the chilling words, "We have
waited, my Lord of Leicester."
"Madam, and most gracious Princess," said Leicester, "you, who can
pardon so many weaknesses which your own heart never knows, can best
bestow your commiseration on the agitations of the bosom, which, for a
moment, affect both head and limbs. I came to your presence a doubting
and an accused subject; your goodness penetrated the clouds of
defamation, and restored me to my honour, and, what is yet dearer, to
your favour--is it wonderful, though for me it is most unhappy, that
my master of the horse should have found me in a state which scarce
permitted me to make the exertion necessary to follow him to this place,
when one glance of your Highness, although, alas! an angry one, has had
power to do that for me in which Esculapius might have failed?"
"How is this?" said Elizabeth hastily, looking at Varney; "hath your
lord been ill?"
"Something of a fainting fit," answered the ready-witted Varney, "as
your Grace may observe from his present condition. My lord's haste would
not permit me leisure even to bring his dress into order."
"It matters not," said Elizabeth, as she gazed on the noble face and
form of Leicester, to which even the strange mixture of passions by
which he had been so lately agitated gave additional interest; "make
room for my noble lord. Your place, Master Varney, has been filled up;
you must find a seat in another barge."