inexperienced, not the connoisseur, is it not, who is more likely to be reduced to such a state?”
“Even connoisseurs are deeply moved by masterpieces, Madam!”
“This is what our lord King would doubtless call French flattery.”
“’Tis French truth nevertheless.”
Henry watched her, jealous and alert, knowing well the French King’s reputation, distrusting him, disliking to see him in conversation with Anne.
Francis said: “It is indeed exciting to contemplate that we have the Lady Anne here with us tonight. I declare I long to see the face that so enchants my brother of England.”
“Your curiosity will be satisfied ere long,” she said.
“I knew the lady once,” he said, feigning not to know it was with none other that he now danced.
“That must have been very long ago.”
“A few years. But such a lady, Madam, one would never forget, you understand.”
She said: “Speak French, if you wish it. I know the language.”
He spoke French; he was happier in it. He told her she spoke it enchantingly. He told her that he would wager she was more fair than the Lady Anne herself, for he had never set eyes on such a lithesome figure, nor heard such a melodious voice; and he trusted she had the fairest face in England and France, for he would be disappointed if she had not!
Anne, feeling Henry’s eyes upon her, rejoiced in Henry. He was a king and a great king; she could not have endured Francis for all the kingdoms in the world.
Henry, impatient of watching, would now remove the masks; and did so, going first to Anne.
“Your Majesty has been dancing with the Marchioness of Pembroke,” he told Francis, who declared himself astonished and delighted.
Henry moved on, leaving Anne with Francis.
“And what did I say of my old friend, little Anne Boleyn?” he said.
Anne laughed. “Your Majesty was fully aware with whom he danced.”
“I should have known that one so full of grace, so pleasant to the eye and the ear, could be none other than she who will soon, I trust, be my sister of England. I congratulate myself that she chose to dance with me.”
“Ceremony, as Your Majesty will well understand, demanded it.”
“You were ever unkind, fair lady! That I well remember.”
“Tell me of your sister.”
They talked long together; Anne’s laughter rang out now and then, for they had many reminiscences to share of the French court, and each could bring back memories to the other.
Henry watched, half proud, half angry. He had ever been jealous of Francis; he wondered whether to join them or leave them together. He did not care to see Anne in such close conversation with the lecher Francis, and yet it must be so for he was the King of France, and honor shown to Anne was honor shown to Henry. Francis’s approval at Rome could mean a good deal, for though Charles was the most important man in Europe, might not Henry and Francis together carry more weight than Katharine’s nephew?
The dance broke up; the ladies retired. Henry talked with his royal guest. Francis suggested he should marry Anne without the Pope’s consent. Henry did not see how this could be, but enjoyed such talk; it was pleasant to think he had French support behind him.
He went to Anne’s chamber, and dismissed her ladies.
“You were indeed a queen tonight!” he said.
“I trust I did not disgrace my King.”
She was gay tonight, savoring the success of the evening; adorable in her costume of cloth of gold and crimson.
He went to her and put his arms about her.
“The dresses were the same, but you stood out among them all. Had one not known who you were, it would have been easily seen that you were she who should be Queen.”
“You are very gracious to me.”
“And you are glad I love you, eh?”
She was so very happy this night that she wanted to shower happiness all about her; and on whom should it fall but on her royal benefactor!
“I was never happier in my life!” she said.
Later, when she lay in his arms, he confessed to jealousy of the French King.
“You seemed to like him too well, sweetheart.”
“Would you have had me ungracious to him? If I seemed to like him, it was because he was your guest.”
“Methought you appeared to coquette with him a little.”
“I did only what I thought would please you.”
“’Twould never please me, Anne, to see your smiles given to another!”
