Chapter 35

It is a time of danger, not of revel,
When churchmen turn to masquers.
SPANISH FATHER.

The enterprise of Roland Graeme appeared to prosper. A trinket or two,
of which the work did not surpass the substance, (for the materials
were silver, supplied by the Queen,) were judiciously presented to
those most likely to be inquisitive into the labours of the forge and
anvil, which they thus were induced to reckon profitable to others and
harmless in itself. Openly, the page was seen working about such
trifles. In private, he forged a number of keys resembling so nearly
in weight and in form those which were presented every evening to the
Lady Lochleven, that, on a slight inspection, it would have been
difficult to perceive the difference. He brought them to the dark
rusty colour by the use of salt and water; and, in the triumph of his
art, presented them at length to Queen Mary in her presence-chamber,
about an hour before the tolling of the curfew. She looked at them
with pleasure, but at the same time with doubt.--"I allow," she said,
"that the Lady Lochleven's eyes, which are not of the clearest, may be
well deceived, could we pass those keys on her in place of the real
implements of her tyranny. But how is this to be done, and which of my
little court dare attempt this _tour de jongleur_ with any chance
of success? Could we but engage her in some earnest matter of
argument--but those which I hold with her, always have been of a kind
which make her grasp her keys the faster, as if she said to
herself--Here I hold what sets me above your taunts and
reproaches--And even for her liberty, Mary Stuart could not stoop to
speak the proud heretic fair.--What shall we do? Shall Lady Fleming
try her eloquence in describing the last new head-tire from
Paris?--alas! the good dame has not changed the fashion of her
head-gear since Pinkie-field for aught that I know. Shall my
_mignóne_ Catherine sing to her one of those touching airs, which
draw the very souls out of me and Roland Graeme?--Alas! Dame Margaret
Douglas would rather hear a Huguenot psalm of Clement Marrot, sung to
the tune of _Reveillez vous, belle endormie._--Cousins and liege
counsellors, what is to be done, for our wits are really astray in
this matter?--Must our man-at-arms and the champion of our body,
Roland Graeme, manfully assault the old lady, and take the keys from
her _par voie du fait?_"

"Nay! with your Grace's permission." said Roland, "I do not doubt
being able to manage the matter with more discretion; for though, in
your Grace's service, I do not fear--"

"A host of old women," interrupted Catherine, "each armed with rock
and spindle, yet he has no