“And more effective.”
Francois hesitated and then said: “The English—and in particular the Duke of Suffolk—seem to be highly favored at our Court.”
“It is necessary to entertain our guests.”
“True, Sire. Yet methinks there are some members of the Court who would be glad to see the English return to their own land.”
“The Queen delights to entertain her countrymen.”
“She has had many opportunities of doing so, Sire.”
That was as far as he dared go. He was right of course, mused Louis. The fellow should not be allowed to come and go as he wished. It was putting too great a temptation in the way of the Queen. He did not wish for trouble.
“The Court will be moving soon to St. Germain,” said Louis quietly. “We shall not expect the English to accompany us there.”
Poor child, he was thinking. But it is better so.
Charles had left for England and there had been no opportunity for a private interview. Mary was desolate, and desperately tried to hide this.
When shall I see my Charles again? she asked herself, and could provide no satisfactory answer.
The Dauphin seemed secretly amused; he had renewed his attentions which, she remembered then, had ceased for a while. Charles was going home covered in glory. Henry would be pleased with him. She pictured them together talking of her.
What would I not give to be sitting in Greenwich Palace between them as I used to!
The King came to her and put her lute into her hands.
“Play for me,” he said. “I am in the mood for sweet music.”
So she played the songs she had played for Henry, and the King, watching her, shared her melancholy. Her golden curls were held from her face by a band set with pearls, but they fell over her shoulders; her gown of violet velvet was cut away in the front to show a petticoat of amber satin which was decorated with a gold fringe, and about her white throat was a necklace of pearls.
This was folly, thought the King. She must forget England and her Englishman. She is the Queen of France now—a proud destiny which should be enough to satisfy anyone. If they could beget a child she would be contented.
A child? Why not? He was not so very old, and on his good days he felt almost young again.
He loved her; he did not see why they should not live together in amity. If there was a little dauphin she would care for the boy so much that she might come to love his father.
He came to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. The lute was silent.
“It does me good to watch you,” he said. “I feel young again.”
She tried to repress the shiver which ran through her, and almost succeeded.
He pitied her but told himself he must harden his heart. She was his wife; he had given her the crown of France; and in exchange she must give him a dauphin.
Louis refused to accept age. At St. Germain he hunted with his old enthusiasm. The Queen rode out with him, and he was at her side during the banquets. He partook of the rich dishes, forsook his boiled meat; and even tried a measure now and then; and when he retired with the Queen he assured himself that having a young wife had made him young again.
Gone was the old man of France.
He knew that the Dauphin with his mother and sister looked on sourly; inwardly he laughed at their discomfiture.
The most beautiful girl at the Court was his Queen, and he was man enough to rejoice in her.
The Court had returned to the Palais des Tournelles in order to celebrate Christmas and the New Year.
The Queen was feverishly gay. If the King wanted to prove that he was not an old man, let him. He must join her in the revels; and she would show them how Christmas and the New Year was celebrated at her brother’s Court.
The weather had turned bitterly cold; deep snow was in the streets and biting winds swept through the Palace. The Queen did not seem to be affected by the weather. Her mood became more hilariously gay as the days passed.
This is how she was meant to be, Louis told himself. She is getting over her infatuation with the Englishman. She is ready to enjoy her new status; it is a glorious thing to be Queen of France even if one must take the old man with it.
When she was with him Louis strove to be gay; he was constantly attempting to prove that he had regained his health and strength. He wanted to make that sly speculation on the face of the Dauphin a certainty. He wanted to send Louise’s hopes diving down to disaster. He was using all the means he could lay his hands on to give his old body a semblance of youth.
He opened the Christmas revels with the Queen beside him; he danced with her; he supped with her, and it was his wit which provoked her to laughter.
As for her, she seemed inexhaustible; it was as though she danced a wild dance and bewitched the King into sharing it with her.
On New Year’s Eve her gaiety seemed to reach its climax. The King never left her side.
When she rose to dance she held out her arms to him and Francois watching with his mother and sister had never felt his hopes so low.
