When she saw the king's threatening looks, and beheld the fearful
expression which shot from every surrounding countenance, she shrunk
with terror. Long backneyed in secret gallantries, the same inward
whisper which had proclaimed to Soulis that the queen was guilty,
induced her to believe that she had been the confidante of an illicit
passion; and therefore, though she knew nothing really bad of her
unhappy mistress, yet, fancying that she did, she stood before the
royal tribunal with the air and aspect of a culprit.
"Repeat to me," demanded the king, "or answer it with your head, all
that you know of Queen Margaret's intimacy with the man who calls
himself a minstrel."
At these words, which were delivered in a tone that seemed the sentence
of death, the French woman fell on her knees, and in a burst of terror
exclaimed, "Sire, I will reveal all if your majesty will grant me
pardon for having too faithfully served my mistress!"
"Speak! speak!" cried the king, with desperate impatience. "I swear to
pardon you, even if you have joined in a conspiracy against my life;
but speak the truth, and all the truth, that judgment, without mercy,
may fall on the guilty heads!"
"Then I obey," answered the baroness.
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