There was at your court a woman whose whole heart belongs, after God, to the king alone; and who so much adores him, that she would be ready at any hour gladly to sacrifice for the king her heart's blood, her whole being--ay, if need be, even her honor itself--a woman, sire, who lives by your smile, and worships you as her redeemer and savior--a woman whom you might, as you pleased, make a saint or a strumpet; and who, to please you, would be a shameless Phyrne or a chaste veiled nun." "Tell me her name, Douglas," said the king, "tell me it! It is a rare and precious stroke of fortune to be so loved; and it would be a sin not to want to enjoy this good fortune." "Sire, I will tell you her name when you have first forgiven me," said Douglas, whose heart leaped for joy, and who well understood that the king's anger was already mollified and the danger now almost overcome.
"I said to this woman: 'You are to do the king a great service; you are to deliver him from a powerful and dangerous foe! You are to save him from Henry Howard!' 'Tell me what I must do!' cried she, her looks beaming with joy.

'Henry Howard loves the queen.

You must be the queen to him.

You must receive his letters, and answer them in the queen's name.

You must grant him interviews by night, and, favored by the darkness of the night, make him believe that it is the queen whom he holds in his arms.