What followed may well have exceeded all expectations. Catherine
stiffened as if the blow dealt her had been physical. Gradually
her face paled until it was grey and drawn; tears of outraged
pride and mortification flooded her eyes. And then, as if
something snapped within her brain under this stress of bitter
emotion, blood gushed from her nostrils, and she sank back in a
swoon into the arms of her Portuguese ladies.

Confusion followed, and under cover of it Charles and his light
of love withdrew, realizing that if he lingered not all his easy
skill in handling delicate situations could avail him to save his
royal dignity.

Naturally the experiment was not to be repeated. But since it was
his wish that the Countess of Castlemaine should be established
as one of the Queen's ladies--or, rather, since it was her
ladyship's wish, and since Charles was as wax in her ladyship's
hands--it became necessary to have the Queen instructed in what
was, in her husband's view, fitting. For this task he selected
Clarendon. But the Chancellor, who had so long and loyally played
Mentor to Charles's Telemachus, sought now to guide him in
matters moral as he had hitherto guided him in matters political.

Clarendon declined the office of mediator, and even expostulated
with Charles upon the unseemliness of the course upon which his
Majesty was bent.

"Surely, sire, it is for her Majesty to say who shall and who
shall not be the ladies of her bedchamber. And I nothing marvel
at her decision in this instance."