For by her marriage she had destroyed so many hopes, she had pushed
aside so many who believed themselves better fitted to assume the
lofty position of queen! She knew that these victims of
disappointment would never forgive her this; that she, who was but
yesterday their equal, had to-day soared above them as queen and
mistress; she knew that all these were watching with spying eyes her
every word and action, in order, it might be, to forge therefrom an
accusation or a death-warrant.
But nevertheless she smiled! She smiled, though she felt that the
choler of the king, so easily kindled and so cruelly vindictive,
ever swung over her head like the sword of Damocles.
She smiled, so that this sword might not fall upon her.
At length all these presentations, this homage and rejoicing were
well over, and they came to the more agreeable and satisfactory part
of the feast.
They went to dinner. That was Catharine's first moment of respite,
of rest. For when Henry the Eighth seated himself at table, he was
no longer the haughty monarch and the jealous husband, but merely
the proficient artiste and the impassioned gourmand; and whether the
pastry was well seasoned, and the pheasant of good flavor, was for
him then a far more important question than any concerning the weal
of his people, and the prosperity of his kingdom.
But after dinner came another respite, a new enjoyment, and this
time a more real one, which indeed for a while banished all gloomy
forebodings and melancholy fears from Catharine's heart, and
suffused her countenance with the rosy radiance of cheerfulness and
happy smiles.
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