From the
resistance they had met with they had been certain that the priest was
here, and this sight perplexed them. A big ruddy man, however, who led
them, sprang across the room, seized Mary Corbet by the shoulders and
whisked her away against the wall, and then dashed the half-burnt paper
out of the grate and began to beat out the flames.
Mary struggled violently for a moment; but the others were upon her and
held her, and she presently stood quiet. Then she began upon them.
"You insolent hounds!" she cried, "do you know who I am?" Her cheeks were
scarlet and her eyes blazing; she seemed in a superb fury.
"Burning treasonable papers," growled the big man from his knees on the
hearth, "that is enough for me."
"Who are you, sir, that dare to speak to me like that?"
The man got up; the flames were out now, and he slipped the papers into a
pocket. Mary went on immediately.
"If I may not burn my own lute music, or keep my door locked, without a
riotous mob of knaves breaking upon me---- Ah! how dare you?" and she
stamped furiously.
The pursuivant came up close to her, insolently.
"See here, my lady----" he began.
The men had fallen back from her a little now that the papers were safe,
and she lifted her ringed hand and struck his ruddy face with all her
might. There was a moment of confusion and laughter as he recoiled.
"Now will you remember that her Grace's ladies are not to be trifled
with?"
There was a murmur from the crowded room, and a voice near the door
cried:
"She says truth, Mr.
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