And more--the widow of my dead chief, Gabriel de Montgomery, is set down in this land unsheltered and alone.
I have sworn to one who loves her, and for my dead chief's sake, that I will serve her and be near her until better days be come and she may return in quietness to France.

In exile we few stricken folk must stand together, your august Majesty." Elizabeth's eye flashed up.

She was impatient of refusal of her favour.
She was also a woman, and that De la Foret should flaunt his devotion to another woman was little to her liking.

The woman in her, which had never been blessed with a noble love, was roused.

The sourness of a childless, uncompanionable life was stronger for the moment than her strong mind and sense.
"Monsieur has sworn this, and Monsieur has sworn that," she said petulantly--"and to one who loveth a lady, and for a cause--tut, tut, tut!--" Suddenly a kind of intriguing laugh leaped into her eye, and she turned to Leicester and whispered in his ear.