She was sure no harm had chanced--the knight was sleeping, she fancied, after his night-watch.

What though, for fear of the King's displeasure, he had deserted with the Standard--it was but a piece of silk, and he but a needy adventurer; or if he was put under warding for a time, she would soon get the King to pardon him--it was but waiting to let Richard's mood pass away.
Thus she continued talking thick and fast, and heaping together all sorts of inconsistencies, with the vain expectation of persuading both Edith and herself that no harm could come of a frolic which in her heart she now bitterly repented.

But while Edith in vain strove to intercept this torrent of idle talk, she caught the eye of one of the ladies who entered the Queen's apartment.

There was death in her look of affright and horror, and Edith, at the first glance of her countenance, had sunk at once on the earth, had not strong necessity and her own elevation of character enabled her to maintain at least external composure.
"Madam," she said to the Queen, "lose not another word in speaking, but save life--if, indeed," she added, her voice choking as she said it, "life may yet be saved." "It may, it may," answered the Lady Calista.

"I have just heard that he has been brought before the King.