Oh! what a day it was, as time went on. Madame Croquelebois went to
high mass, and Bellote remained in charge. I was, you understand, a
prisoner at large. Provided some one was attending me, I went into
any room in the house save the only one where I cared to be. And I
was sitting in the salon, with my Bible and Prayer-book before me--
not reading, I fear me, but at any rate attesting my religion, when
there came up a message that Son Altesse Royale, the Duke of
Gloucester, requested to be admitted to see Mademoiselle de
Ribaumont.
Nobody made any question about admitting a Royal Highness, so up he
came, the dear boy, with his bright hazel eyes like his father's, and
his dark shining curls on his neck. He had missed me at the
ambassador's chapel, and being sure, from my absence, that my brother
must be very ill indeed, he had come himself to inquire. He could as
yet speak little French, and not understanding what they told him at
the door, he had begged to see me.
It did not take long to tell him all, for Bellote did not understand
English; I showed him the note, and he stood considering. He was not
like his brothers, he had not lived in vain all those years with his
sister Elisabeth in captivity, for there was a grave manliness about
him though he was only thirteen. He said: 'do you think Lord Walwyn
would see me? I am used to be with a sick person.'
Eagerly I sent up word. I knew my mother would never refuse entrance
to royal blood; nor did she.
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