"Now, lad, move about and keep your eyes open and your mouth shut!" whispers M. Radisson as he left me.
Barillon would have followed to the king's group, but His Majesty looked up with a quiet insolence that sent the ambassador to another circle. Then a page-boy touched my arm.
"Master Stanhope?" he questioned.
"Yes," said I.
"Come this way," and he led to a tapestried corner, where sat the queen and her ladies.
Mistress Hortense stood behind the royal chair.
Queen Catherine extended her hand for my salute.
"Her Majesty is pleased to ask what has become of the sailor-lad and his bride," said Hortense.
"Hath the little Puritan helped to get them married right?" asked the queen, with the soft trill of a foreign tongue.
"Your Majesty," said I, "the little Puritan holds back."