“No, madame.”
“Why did you not go to see him first?”
“I had sent home my valet, and my luggage, but my father sent the servant back again, with orders to present myself first to you, or the king.”
“It is a lovely morning,” said the queen; “to-morrow the ice will begin to melt. Madame de Misery, order my sledge and send my chocolate in here.”
“Will not your majesty take something to eat? You had no supper last night.”
“You mistake, my good Misery, we had supper. Had we not, Andrée?”
“A very good one, madame.”
“So I will only have my chocolate. Quick, Madame de Misery; this fine weather tempts me, and the Swiss lake will be full of company.”
“Your majesty is going to skate?” asked Philippe.
“Ah, you will laugh at us, M. l’Américain; you, who have traversed lakes where there are more miles than we have feet here.”