Her father's blood fumed and raged within her, and, a true daughter
of Henry the Eighth, she concealed in her heart only bloodthirsty
and revengeful thoughts.
She cast on Thomas Seymour a look of dark wrath, and a contemptuous
smile played about her lips. "My lord," said she, "you have called
me a child who allows herself to be easily deceived, because she
longs so much for the sun and for happiness. You are right: I was a
child; and I was foolish enough to take a miserable liar for a
noble-man, who was worthy of the proud fortune of being loved by a
king's daughter. Yes, you are right; that was a childish dream.
Thanks to you, I have now awoke from it; and you have matured the
child into a woman, who laughs at the folly of her youth, and
despises to-day what she adored yesterday. I have nothing to do with
you; and you are even too insignificant and too contemptible for my
anger. But I tell you, you have played a hazardous game, and you
will lose. You courted a queen and a princess, and you will gain
neither of them: not the one, for she despises you; not the other,
for she ascends the scaffold!"
With a wild laugh she was hurrying to the door, but Catharine with a
strong hand held her back and compelled her to remain. "What are you
going to do?" asked she, with perfect calmness and composure.
"What am I going to do?" asked Elizabeth, her eyes flashing like
those of a lioness. "You ask me what I will do? I will go to my
father, and tell him what I have here witnessed! He will listen to
me; and his tongue will still have strength enough to pronounce your
sentence of death! Oh, my mother died on the scaffold, and yet she
was innocent.
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