“Is it then true, madam,” Sir Robert Beale asked, “that you have not yet made a will?”

“I have not, sir,” the queen answered.

“In that case, my lords,” said Sir Robert Beale, turning to the two earls, “perhaps it would be a good thing to put it off for a day or two.”

“Impossible, sir,” replied the Earl of Shrewsbury:  “the time is fixed, and we cannot change anything, even by a minute, now.”

“Enough, Bourgoin, enough,” said the queen; “rise, I command you.”

Bourgoin obeyed, and the Earl of Shrewsbury, turning to Sir Amyas Paulet, who was behind him—­

“Sir Amyas,” said he, “we entrust this lady to your keeping:  you will charge yourself with her, and keep her safe till our return.”

With these words he went out, followed by the Earl of Kent, Sir Robert Beale, Amyas Paulet, and Drury, and the queen remained alone with her servants.

Then, turning to her women with as serene a countenance as if the event which had just taken place was of little importance—­

“Well, Jeanne,” said she, speaking to Kennedy, “have I not always told you, and was I not right, that at the bottom of their hearts they wanted to do this? and did I not see clearly through all their procedure the end they had in view, and know well enough that I was too great an obstacle to their false religion to be allowed to live?  Come,” continued she, “hasten supper now, that I may put my affairs in order”.  Then, seeing that instead of obeying her, her servants were weeping and lamenting, “My children,” said she, with a sad smile, but without a tear in her eye, “it is no time for weeping, quite the contrary; for if you love me, you ought to rejoice that the Lord, in making me die for His cause, relieves me from the torments I have endured for nineteen years.  As for me, I thank Him for allowing me to die for the glory of His faith and His Church.  Let each have patience, then, and while the men prepare supper, we women will pray to God.”

The men immediately went out, weeping and sobbing, and the queen and her women fell on their knees.  When they had recited some prayers, Mary rose, and sending for all the money she had left, she counted it and divided it into portions, which she put into purses with the name of the destined recipient, in her handwriting, with the money.

At that moment, supper being served, she seated herself at table with her women as usual, the other servants standing or coming and going, her doctor waiting on her at table as he was accustomed since her steward had been taken from her.  She ate no more nor less than usual, speaking, throughout supper, of the Earl of Kent, and of the way in which he betrayed himself with respect to religion, by his insisting on wanting to give the queen a pastor instead of a priest.  “Happily,” she added, laughing, “one more skilful than he was needed to change me”.  Meanwhile Bourgoin was weeping behind the queen, for he was thinking that he was serving her for the last time, and that she who was eating, talking, and laughing thus, next day at the same hour would be but a cold and insensible corpse.