o you call it in French? She has told me all,
and truly I would help you with all my heart, but it is not as if I
were the Queen-mother. You must have recourse to the King, who loves you
well, and at my request included you in the hunting-party.'

Berenger could only kiss her hand in token of earnest thanks before the
repast was announced, and the King came to lead her to the table spread
beneath the trees. The whole party supped together, but Berenger could
have only a distant view of his little wife, looking very demure and
grave by the side of the Admiral.

But when the meal was ended, there was a loitering in the woodland
paths, amid healthy openings or glades trimmed into discreet wildness
fit for royal rusticity; the sun set in parting glory on one horizon,
the moon rising in crimson majesty on the other. A musician at intervals
touched the guitar, and sang Spanish or Italian airs, whose soft or
quaint melody came dreamily through the trees. Then it was that with
beating heart Berenger stole up to the maiden as she stood behind the
Queen, and ventured to whisper her name and clasp her hand.

She turned, their eyes met, and she let him lead her apart into the
wood. It was not like a lover's tryst, it was more like the continuation
of their old childish terms, only that he treated her as a thing of his
own, that he was bound to secure and to guard, and she received him as
her own lawful but tardy protector, to be treated with perfect reliance
but with a certain playful resentment.

'You will not run away from me now,' he said, making full prize of her
hand and arm.

'Ah! is not she the dearest and best of queens?' and the large eyes were
lifted up to him in such frank seeking of sympathy that he could see
into the depths of their clear darkness.

'It is her doing then. Though, Eustacie, when I knew the truth, not
flood nor fire should keep me long from you, my heart, my love, my
wife.'

'What! wife in spite of those villainous letter?' she said, trying to
pout.

'Wife for ever, inseparably! Only you must be a