The
savage tone of that man's voice--my knowledge of his insolence--
the name which he named--the purpose for which they come--may
excuse a moment's weakness, and it shall be a moment's only." She
snatched from her head the curch or cap, which had been disordered
during her hysterical agony, shook down the thick clustered tresses of
dark brown which had been before veiled under it--and, drawing her
slender fingers across the labyrinth which they formed, she arose from
the chair, and stood like the inspired image of a Grecian prophetess
in a mood which partook at once of sorrow and pride, of smiles and of
tears. "We are ill appointed," she said, "to meet our rebel subjects;
but, as far as we may, we will strive to present ourselves as becomes
their Queen. Follow me, my maidens," she said; "what says thy
favourite song, my Fleming?
'My maids, come to my dressing-bower,
And deck my nut-brown hair;
Where'er ye laid a plait before,
Look ye lay ten times 'mair.'
"Alas!" she added, when she had repeated with a smile these lines of an
old ballad, "violence has already robbed me of the ordinary
decorations of my rank; and the few that nature gave me have been
destroyed by sorrow and by fear." Yet while she spoke thus, she again
let her slender fingers stray through the wilderness of the beautiful
tresses which veiled her kingly neck and swelling bosom, as if, in her
agony of mind, she had not altogether lost the consciousness of her
unrivalled charms.
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