Oh, dearest Lady Fleming, pardon,
pardon, for the injuries I said to you in my anger--your words were
prompted by Heaven to save our lives, and especially that of the
injured Queen. But what have we now to do? that old crocodile of the
lake will be presently back to shed her hypocritical tears over our
dying agonies.--Lady Fleming, what shall we do?"
"Our Lady help us in our need !" she replied; "how should I tell?--
unless we were to make our plaint to the Regent."
"Make our plaint to the devil," said Catherine impatiently, "and
accuse his dam at the foot of his burning throne!--The Queen still
sleeps--we must gain time. The poisoning hag must not know her scheme
has miscarried; the old envenomed spider has but too many ways of
mending her broken web. The jar of succory-water," said she--"Roland,
if thou be'st a man, help me--empty the jar on the chimney or from the
window--make such waste among the viands as if we had made our usual
meal, and leave the fragments on cup and porringer, but taste nothing
as thou lovest thy life. I will sit by the Queen, and tell her at her
waking, in what a fearful pass we stand. Her sharp wit and ready
spirit will teach us what is best to be done. Meanwhile, till farther
notice, observe, Roland, that the Queen is in a state of torpor--that
Lady Fleming is indisposed--that character" (speaking in a lower tone)
"will suit her best, and save her wits some labour in vain. I am not
so much indisposed, thou understandest.
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