She was as fond of finery as ever and had taken to wearing white a great deal. She had always had a fondness for it since the days when black and white were the fashionable colors. White was becoming to her aging face, she fancied; and on the rare occasions when I glimpsed her at that time—always unseen by her, perhaps passing through the streets on her progress about the country—I had agreed with her. She had preserved her skin, and her abstemiousness from food and drink had kept her figure slender and youthful. She carried herself with the utmost grace—in fact I never saw anyone walk or sit more regally—and from a distance she could still look youthful; and the glitter and pomp with which she surrounded herself made her readily accepted as immortal.

Knowing Essex well, I realized that in a way he was enamored of her. He could not tear himself away from her side. All through the summer he was at Court, and she would sit playing cards with him until the early hours of the morning. The very fact that he was outspoken would have delighted her, for being the man he was—concealment of any emotion being alien to him—he would have made his admiration for her obvious; and coming from a young man more than thirty years younger than she, this must have been a compliment such as a woman of her nature would greatly cherish.

I could sympathize with her. I knew what admiration from a young and personable man could mean. I had resumed my friendship with Christopher Blount, who had returned from the Netherlands more sophisticated than he had been when he went away. He was more forceful, more demanding, a quality to which I was not averse. I allowed myself to be taken by him and we continued to conduct this interesting affair which had for me the merit of romance simply because we had to be so cautious.

I told him I feared for his life if Leicester discovered, and so did he. But that gave a fillip to our lovemaking.

Meanwhile Essex was arousing the envy of all other men at Court and in particular Walter Raleigh, who felt himself ousted by my son.

Raleigh was an older man than Essex and a good deal cleverer. He had a honeyed tongue when he wished, yet he could give the Queen some truths when he judged it the right moment to do so. In addition to those rather flamboyant good looks, which had immediately attracted the Queen, he was a man of great talent and discernment. She called him her Water—perhaps because his name was Walter; perhaps because she found him refreshing; perhaps because she liked him to flow along beside her. However, the fact that he had one of her nicknames was an indication of her affection for him.

There were the aging favorites too. Poor Hatton, like Robert, was getting old, and so was Heneage; but because of her faithful nature—and the fact that they were useful to her—she kept them with her, and was almost as faithful to them in her fashion as she was to Leicester, only of course they knew—and everyone at Court knew—that no one could ever hold the place in her heart which belonged to Leicester, the lover of her youth, to whom she had been faithful all her life.

Essex and my daughters brought me little anecodotes from Court which I loved to hear. Penelope was delighted that her brother was in such favor with the Queen, and she assured me that before long he would insist on the Queen's receiving me.

"I doubt I would want to go on such terms," I said.

"My lady, you would be ready to go on any terms," retorted my daughter. "You are never going to be taken as lady of the bedchamber or some such post, but I don't see why you should not come to Court as becomes your position as Countess Leicester."

"I wonder she likes to proclaim her jealousy as she does."

"She thrives on it," said Penelope. "Hatton has sent her a bodkin and bucket wrought in gold as a charm, with the pointed message that she might need it as Water is sure to be close at hand—referring to Raleigh, of course. You would think she would tell Hatton not to be such a fool, but she replied in like manner and assured him that Water should never overflow her banks, for he knew how dear her sheep were to her. So old Bellwether was thanked for his jealous pains. She loves them to fight among themselves over her. It helps her to forget the crow's-feet and wrinkled skin which confront her in that cruel mirror which is not so comforting as her courtiers."

I asked her how she was getting on with her married life and she shrugged the question aside with the remark that no sooner was she delivered of one child than she was pregnant with another, and one day she would tell Lord Rich that she had given him enough children and would bear no more.

Her frequent pregnancies did not seem to impair her looks or health, for she was as vital and as beautiful as she ever was; and I was on the point of telling her about my own love affair with Christopher Blount.

She went on to tell me that the Queen was certainly taken with Raleigh, and he was perhaps the nearest rival Essex had. Essex should be warned, she believed, not to be too frank with the Queen, but to use his frankness only when it pleased her and when she clearly wanted a candid answer.

"You are asking him to go against his nature," I said. "I believe that is something he would never do."

We talked of him lovingly, for Penelope was almost as devoted to him as I was. We were both very proud of him.

"But Raleigh is clever," she said, "as our Robin never could be. Yet Raleigh is making demands on the Queen and when the other day she asked him when he would stop being a beggar, he retorted sharply that he would only do so when Her Majesty ceased to be a benefactress—which made her laugh heartily. You know how she likes that kind of wit. Robin could never give her that. One thing I am afraid of is that he might overestimate his power over her. If he did that, there could be trouble." '

I replied that when her favorites overstepped the mark she frequently forgave them. Look at Leicester.

"But there will never be another Leicester," said Penelope soberly. I knew it was true.

I was growing fond of Christopher. I found him interesting and amusing, once he had overcome his awe of me, which it was impossible to sustain now that he was learning that I wanted him as much as he wanted me.

He told me about his family, which was noble but impoverished. His grandfather, Lord Mountjoy, had spent unwisely and his father had squandered more of the family fortunes in an attempt to find the philosopher's stone. William, Christopher's elder brother, was a man who had no respect for money and lived extravagantly beyond his means, so it seemed unlikely that there would be much left of the family fortunes.

The hope was brother Charles, who was a few years older than Christopher and a few younger than William. Charles had declared his determination to come to Court and restore the family's wealth.

I was interested in this family saga because of Christopher of course, and when his brother Charles began to be mentioned as a rival to my son, my amused interest quickened.

The Blounts were possessed of handsome looks, and it seemed that Charles had his fair share of them. He was brought to Court and was among the company which sat down to dine with the Queen. This did not mean that she would speak to all present, but it presented an opportunity to attract her attention, which Charles's appearance did at once.

The Queen, I was told, asked her carver who the good-looking stranger was, and when the carver said he did not know she told him to find out.

Charles, seeing the Queen's eyes on him, blushed deeply, a fact which enchanted her, and when she heard that he was Lord Mountjoy's son she sent for him. She talked to the bashful young man for a few minutes and asked after his father. Then she said: "Fail you not to come to Court and I will bethink myself how to do you good."

Those about them smiled. Another handsome young man!

Of course he followed up that invitation and soon was a great favorite with the Queen, for he had other qualities besides his good looks, being well read, particularly in history, so that he could meet the Queen on an intellectual level which delighted her. As he remained somewhat retiring and did not spend extravagant—for indeed he was unable to—the Queen found this refreshing, and he was fast becoming a prominent member in her little band of favorites.

One day when he tilted she was there to watch him and made no secret of her pleasure in his victory, to celebrate which she gave him a chess queen of gold and very richly enameled. He was so proud of it that he ordered his servants to stitch it onto his sleeve, and carried his cloak over his arm so that all could see this mark of royal pleasure.

When this caught my son's eye, he wanted to know what it meant and he was told that the Queen had bestowed the favor on young Blount at the previous day's tilting. Another fault of my son's was his jealousy, and he thought of the Queen's admiring this young man filled him with rage.

"It seems every fool must have a favor," he said slightingly; and as these words were spoken in the hearing of several people, there was nothing Charles Blount could do but challenge him.

I was very upset when Christopher told me, and so was he. He came to me almost in tears. "My brother and your son are to fight a duel," he said; and it was then that I learned the reason.

Duels could end in death and that my son was in danger sent me frantic with anxiety. I sent a message to him at once to come to me without delay. He did so, but when he heard what I wanted he became impatient.

"My dearest Rob," I cried, "you could be killed." He shrugged his shoulders and I went on: "And what if you killed this young man?"