Whatever she may have felt, Anne expressed herself willing to be divorced—­perhaps she was thankful to escape with her head—­and desired the Duke of Cleves’ messenger “to commend her to her brother, and say she was merry and well entreated.”  He reported of her that she said this “with such alacrity and pleasant gesture, that he might well testify that he found her not miscontented.  After she had dined she sent the King the ring delivered unto her at their pretended marriage, desiring that it might be broken in pieces as a thing which she knew of no force or value.”  Henry sent her many gifts and tokens “as his sister and none otherwise,” and told her that she was to be the first lady in the realm next after the queen and the king’s children.  He exhorted her to be “quiet and merry,” and subscribed himself “your loving brother and friend.”  After his fifth marriage she was designated as “the old Queen, the King’s sister.”

The French ambassador, in a letter of the 6th August 1540, wrote:—­

“The King being lately with a small party at Hampton Court, ten miles hence, supped at Richmond with the Queen that was so merrily that some thought he meant to reinstate her, but others think it was done to get her consent to the dissolution of the marriage, and make her subscribe what she had said thereupon, which is not only what they wanted, but also what she thinks they expected.  The latter opinion is the more likely, as the King drew her apart, in company with the three first councillors he had, who are not commonly called in to such confidence.”

Marillac goes on to say that he thinks it would be great inconsistency to take her back now, and that moreover she did not sup with him as she did when she was queen, but at another table adjoining his, as other ladies who are not of the blood do, when he eats in company.

On the 15th he wrote to the Duke de Montmorency:—­

“As for her who is called Madame de Cleves, far from pretending to be distressed, she is as joyous as ever, and wears new dresses every day, which argues either prudent dissimulation or stupid forgetfulness of what should so closely touch her heart.  Be it as it may, it has thrown the poor ambassador of Cleves into a fever, who sends every day to ask if I have no news of his master.”

Even if Anne’s first feeling had been one of relief that a worse fate had not befallen her, her gaiety was obviously forced, and no doubt the lady did “protest too much,” but she had been ordered to be “quiet and merry,” and if after such a mandate she had ventured to put on a sorrowful countenance, or to express a vain regret, her quondam husband would probably have been—­such was his disposition—­less flattered by the compliment than irritated by the command disobeyed.  And so she prudently accepted her fate and “sate like patience on a monument smiling at grief,” as it afterwards transpired, and in her efforts to please, imposed upon herself what must have been the most trying ordeals.