His mother
turned him all round, smoothed his hair, fresh buckled his plume, and
admonished him with earnest entreaties to do himself credit.
'I will, Madame,' he said. 'I will do my very utmost to be worthy of
my badge.'
'Now, Charles, if you play the fool and lose her, I will never
forgive you.'
I understood it soon. The Queen was bent on winning for her son the
hand of Mademoiselle, a granddaughter of France, and the greatest
heiress there. If all were indeed lost in England, he would thus be
far from a landless Prince, and her wealth might become a great
assistance to the royal cause in England. But Mademoiselle was
several years older than the Prince, and was besides stiff, haughty,
conceited, and not much to his taste, so he answered rather sullenly
that he could not speak French.
'So much the better,' said his mother; 'you would only be uttering
follies. When I am not there, Rupert must speak for you.'
'Rupert is too High-Dutch to be much of a courtier,' said the Prince.
'Rupert is old enough to know what is for your good, and not
sacrifice all to a jest,' returned his mother.
By this time the carriage had reached the Palais Royal. We were told
that Mademoiselle was still at her toilette, and up we all went,
through ranks of Swiss and lackeys, to her apartments, to a splendid
dressing-room, where the Princess sat in a carnation dress, richly
ornamented with black and white, all complete except the fastening
the feather in her hair.
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