The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

Wheeling round on the stool, and throwing one leg indolently over the other, Renard regarded the mannikin with apparent sternness, but secret entertainment. The expression of Xit’s countenance, as he underwent this scrutiny, was so ludicrous, that it brought a smile to every face except that of the chirurgeon.

After gazing at the dwarf for a few minutes in silence, Renard thus commenced, “You conveyed messages to the Earl of Devonshire when he was confined in the Bell Tower?”

“Several,” replied Xit.

“And from whom?” demanded Renard.

“Your excellency desires me speak the truth, I conclude?” rejoined Xit.

“If you attempt to prevaricate, I will have you questioned by that engine,” returned Renard, pointing to the rack. “I again ask you by whom you were employed to convey these messages?”

“Your excellency and your attendants will keep the secret if I tell you?” replied Xit. “I was sworn not to reveal my employer’s name.”

“No further trifling, knave,” cried Renard, “or I shall deliver you to the tormentors. Who was it?”

“The queen,” replied Xit.

“Impossible!” exclaimed Renard, in surprise.

“Nothing is impossible to a woman in love,” replied Xit; “and her highness, though a queen, is still a woman.”

“Beware how you trifle with me, sirrah,” rejoined Renard. “It was M. De Noailles who employed you.”

“He employed me on the part of her majesty, I assure your excellency,” returned Xit.

“He deceived you if he told you so,” replied Renard. “But now, repeat to me the sum of your conversations with the earl.”

“Our conversations all related to his escape,” replied Xit.

“Hum!” exclaimed Renard. “Now mark me, and answer me truly as you value a whole skin. Was nothing said of the Princess Elizabeth, and of a plot to place her on the throne, and wed her to Courtenay?”

“Nothing that I remember,” answered Xit.

“Think again!” cried Renard.

“I do recollect that upon one occasion his lordship alluded to the Princess,” answered Xit, after a moment’s pretended reflection.

“Well, what did he say?” demanded Renard.

“That he was sorry he had ever made love to her,” replied Xit.

“And well he might be,” observed Renard. “But was that all?”

“Every syllable,” replied Xit.

“I must assist your memory, then,” said Renard. “What ho! tormentors.”

“Hold!” cried the dwarf; “I will hide nothing from you.”

“Proceed, then,” rejoined Renard, “or I give the order.”

“Well, then,” returned Xit, “since I must needs confess the whole truth, the reason why the Earl of Devonshire was sorry he had made love to the princess was this. Her majesty sent him a letter through me, promising to forgive him, and restore him to her affections.”

“You have been either strangely imposed upon, or you are seeking to impose upon me, knave,” cried Renard. “But I suspect the latter.”

“I carried the billet myself, and saw it opened,” returned Xit, “and the earl was so transported with its contents, that he promised to knight me on the day of his espousals.”

“A safe promise, if he ever made it,” rejoined Renard “but the whole story is a fabrication. If her majesty desired to release the earl, why did she not issue her orders to that effect to Sir Henry Bedingfeld?”

“Because—but before I proceed, I must beg your excellency to desire your attendants to withdraw. You will perceive my motives, and approve them, when I offer you my explanation.”

Renard waved his hand, and the others withdrew, Wolfytt observing to Mauger, “I should like to hear what further lies the little varlet will invent. He hath a ready wit.”

“Now, speak out, we are alone,” commanded Renard.

“The reason why her majesty did not choose to liberate the Earl of Devonshire was the fear of offending your excellency,” replied Xit.

“How?” exclaimed Renard, bending his brows.

“In a moment of pique she had affianced herself to Prince Philip of Spain,” continued Xit. “But in her calmer moments she repented her precipitancy, and feeling a return of affection for the earl, she employed M. De Noailles to make up the matter with him. But the whole affair was to be kept a profound secret from you.”

“Can this be true?” cried Renard. “But no—no—it is absurd. You are abusing my patience.”

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