"Ah," said he, "I know what it is. You had wholly bewildered me, and
stolen away my attention, you little enchantress. I had for a moment
ceased to be a king, because I wished to be entirely your lover. But
now I bethink me again of my avenging sovereignty! It is the fagot-
piles about the stake which flame so merrily yonder. And that
yelling and clamor indicate that my merry people are enjoying with
all their soul the comedy which I have had played before them to-
day, for the honor of God, and my unimpeachable royal dignity."
"The stake!" cried Catharine, trembling. "Your majesty does not mean
thereby to say that right yonder, men are to die a cruel, painful
death--that the same hour in which their king pronounces himself
happy and content, some of his subjects are to be condemned to
dreadful torture, to a horrible destruction! Oh, no! my king will
not overcloud his queen's wedding-day with so dark a veil of death.
He will not wish to dim my happiness so cruelly."
The king laughed. "No, I will not darken it, but light it up with
bright names," said he; and as, with outstretched arm, he pointed
over to the glaring heavens, he continued: "There are our wedding-
torches, my Kate, and the most sacred and beautiful which I could
find, for they burn to the honor of God and of the king. [Footnote:
"Life of King Henry the Eighth, founded on Authentic and Original
Documents." By Patrick Fraser Tytler. (Edinburgh, 1887, p.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53