“...  The question is,” the old man was saying more quietly, “how to get you in to her Grace.  Why, Sir Amyas opens her letters even, and reseals them again!  He thinks me a fool, and that I do not know what he does....  Do you know aught of medicine?” he asked abruptly.

“I know only what country folks know of herbs.”

“And their names—­their Latin names, man?” pursued the other, leaning forward.

Robin half smiled.

“Now you speak of it,” he said, “I have learned a good many, as a pastime, when I was a boy.  I was something of a herbalist, even.  But I have forgotten—­”

“Bah! that would be enough for Sir Amyas—­”

He turned and spat venomously at the name.

“Sir Amyas knows nothing save his own vile trade.  He is a lout—­no more.  He is as grim as a goose, always.  And you have a town air about you,” he went on, running his eyes critically over the young man’s dress.  “Those are French clothes?”

“They were bought in France.”

The two stood silent.  Robin’s excitement beat in all his veins, in spite of his weariness.  He had come to bear a human message only to a bereaved Queen; and it seemed as if his work were to be rather the bearing of a Divine message to a lonely soul.  He watched the old man’s face eagerly.  It was sunk in thought....  Then Mr. Bourgoign took him abruptly by the arm.

“Give me your arm again,” he said.  “I am an old man.  We must be going back again.  It seems as if God heard our prayers after all.  I will see you disposed for to-night—­you and your man and the horses, and I will send for you myself in the morning.  Could you say mass, think you? if I found you a secure place—­and bring Our Lord’s Body with you in the morning?”

He checked the young man, to hear his answer.

“Why, yes,” said Robin.  “I have all things that are needed.”

“Then you shall say mass in any case ... and reserve our Lord’s Body in a pyx....  Now listen to me.  If my plan falls as I hope, you must be a physician to-morrow, and have practised your trade in Paris.  You have been in Paris?”

“No, sir.”

“Bah!...  Well, no more has Sir Amyas!...  You have practised your trade in Paris, and God has given you great skill in the matter of herbs.  And, upon hearing that I was in Chartley, you inquired for your old friend, whose acquaintance you had made in Paris, five years ago.  And I, upon hearing you were come, secured your willingness to see my patient, if you would but consent.  Your reputation has reached me even here; you have attended His Majesty in Paris on three occasions; you restored Mademoiselle Elise, of the family of Guise, from the very point of death.  You are but a young man still; yet—­Bah!  It is arranged.  You understand?  Now come with me.”

CHAPTER IV

I