Ah, my husband, it was not done to spite you, but only to vex and annoy the haughty priest.

For I must confess to you, my king, I hate this Bishop of Winchester--ay, yet more--I have a dread of him; for my foreboding heart tells me that he is my enemy, that he is watching each of my looks, each of my words, so that he can make from them a noose to strangle me.

He is the evil destiny that creeps up behind me and would one day certainly destroy me, if your beneficent hand and your almighty arm did not protect me.
"Oh, when I behold him, my husband, I would always gladly fly to your heart, and say to you: 'Protect me, my king, and have compassion on me! Have faith in me and love me; for if you do not, I am lost! The evil fiend is there to destroy me.'" And, as she thus spoke, she clung affectionately to the king's side, and, leaning her head on his breast, looked up to him with a glance of tender entreaty and touching devotion.
The king bent down and kissed her brow.

"Oh, sancta simplicitas," softly murmured he--"she knows not how nigh she is to the truth, and how much reason she has for her evil forebodings!" Then he asked aloud: "So, Kate, you believe that Gardiner hates you ?" "I do not believe it, I know it!" said she.

"He wounds me whenever he can; and though his wounds are made only with pins, that comes only from this, that he is afraid that you might discover it if he drew a dagger on me, whilst you might not notice the pin with which he secretly wounds me.