She opened her eyes, quivering from head to foot.  Yesterday she had commanded herself.  She had gone to him with outstretched hand and welcoming smile.  To-day she sat quite still.  She could not move.

He came to her, stooped over her, then knelt beside her; but he did not offer to touch her.  The sunlight streamed down upon his upturned face.  His eyes were deep and still and passionless.

“You expected me,” he said.

She looked down at him.  “I have been expecting you for a very long time,” she said.

A flicker that was scarcely a smile crossed his face.  “And yet I’ve come too soon,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” She asked the question almost in spite of herself.  But she had begun to grow calmer.  His quietness reassured her.

“Because, my Queen,” he said, “the role of jester at court is obsolete, at least so far as I am concerned, and I haven’t managed to qualify for another.”

“Do you want another?” she said.

He turned his eyes away from her.  “I want—­many things,” he said.

She motioned him to the seat beside her.  “Tell me what you have been doing all this time.”

“I can’t,” he said.

But he rose and sat beside her as she desired.

“What under heaven have I been doing?” he said.  “I don’t know, I guess I’ve been something like Nebuchadnezzar when they turned him out to grass.  I’ve been just—­ruminating,”

“Is that all?” There was a curious note of relief in Anne’s voice.

His old magnetic smile flashed across his face as he caught it.  “That’s all, Queen Anne.  It’s been monstrous dull.  Do you know, I don’t think Heaven intended me for a hermit.”

Involuntarily almost she smiled in answer.  Her heart was beating quite steadily again.  She was no longer afraid.

“Nebuchadnezzar came to his own again,” she observed.

“He did,” said Nap.

“And you?”

He leaned back with his face to the sky.  “Not yet,” he said.

Anne was silent.  He turned after a moment and looked at her.  “And what have you been doing, 0 Queen?” he said.

Her hands were clasped in her lap.  They suddenly gripped each other very fast.

“Won’t you tell me?” said Nap.

He spoke very softly, but he made no movement towards her.  He sat aloof and still.  Yet he plainly desired an answer.

It came at last, spoken almost in a whisper.  “I have been—­waiting.”

“Waiting—­” he said.

She parted her hands suddenly, with a gesture that was passionate, and rose.  “Yes, waiting,” she said, “waiting, Nap, waiting!  And oh, I’m so tired of it.  I’m not like you.  I have never wanted—­many things; only one—­only one!” Her voice broke.  She turned sharply from him.

Nap had sprung to his feet.  He stood close to her.  But he held himself in check.  He kept all emotion out of his face and voice.