Here is your rosette; and like the famous fox in the fable, that pronounced the grapes sour because he could not get them, I say, take your rosette back; I will have none of it." He handed the queen the rosette, and she smilingly fastened it on her shoulder again.
"John," said she, with a bewitching smile, extending her hand to him, "John, when will you at length permit me to thank you otherwise than with words?
When will you at length allow your queen to reward you for all this service of love, otherwise than with words ?" John Heywood kissed her hand, and said mournfully: "I will demand a reward of you on the day when my tears and my prayers succeed in persuading you to renounce this wretched and dangerous love.

On that day I shall have really deserved a reward, and I will accept it from you with a proud heart." "Poor John! So, then, you will never receive your reward; for that day will never come!" "So, then, I shall probably receive my reward, but from the king; and it will be a reward whereby one loses hearing and sight, and head to boot.
Well, we shall see! Till then, farewell, queen! I must to the king; for somebody might surprise me here, and come to the shrewd conclusion that John Heywood is not always a fool, but sometimes also the messenger of love! I kiss the hem of your garment; farewell, queen!" He glided again through the private door.
"Now we will at once examine this paper," said he, as he reached the corridor and was sure of being seen by no one.
He drew the paper out of his doublet and opened it.

"I do not know the hand-writing," muttered her, "but it was a woman that wrote it." The letter read: "Do you believe me now, my beloved?
I swore to deliver to you to-day, in the presence of the king and all of my court, this rosette; and I have done so.

For you I gladly risk my life, for you are my life; and still more beautiful were it to die with you, than to live without you.

I live only when I rest in your arms; and those dark nights, when you can be with me, are the light and sunshine of my days.
Let us pray Heaven a dark night may soon come; for such a night restores to me the loved one, and to you, your happy wife, Geraldine." "Geraldine! who is Geraldine ?" muttered John Heywood, slipping the paper into his doublet again.