Laporte made no further objection, and read:
“ My Lord —By that which, since I have known you, have suffered by you and for you, I conjure you, if you have any care for my repose, to countermand those great armaments which you are preparing against France, to put an end to a war of which it is publicly said religion is the ostensible cause, and of which, it is generally whispered, your love for me is the concealed cause. This war may not only bring great catastrophes upon England and France, but misfortune upon you, my Lord, for which I should never console myself.
“Be careful of your life, which is menaced, and which will be dear to me from the moment I am not obliged to see an enemy in you.
Buckingham collected all his remaining strength to listen to the reading of the letter; then, when it was ended, as if he had met with a bitter disappointment, he asked, “Have you nothing else to say to me by the living voice, Laporte?”
“The queen charged me to tell you to watch over yourself, for she had advice that your assassination would be attempted.”
“And is that all—is that all?” replied Buckingham, impatiently.
“She likewise charged me to tell you that she still loved you.”
“Ah,” said Buckingham, “God be praised! My death, then, will not be to her as the death of a stranger!”
Laporte burst into tears.
“Patrick,” said the duke, “bring me the casket in which the diamond studs were kept.”