The girl stood motionless, and there was a quick stab in her heart. She had known that this moment would come, but had kept her thoughts from it … and now … he was going….
Once more she would have only her little world of make-believe. She released the cat from her arms and turned her eyes away.
"You have been very kind, monsieur," she said.
He fingered his helmet absent-mindedly. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked aimlessly.
"It was wonderful," she said quietly, still looking into distance; "I have seen so much. This morning I was just a little girl, but now——"
His fingers ceased turning the helmet, and he frowned at it intently. "We do not grow old with years but by moments," he said. "For a long time one is a child; then there comes an instant of suffering, or of love … and one is no longer a child. That is all."
She slowly sank into a chair by the table, and, folding her hands, appeared engrossed in the table cover. "Your Majesty," she said, "do you remember the poor lady with the violets?"
"Yes, Pippa."
"What did she say to you?"
He smiled awkwardly. "It—it is rather hard to explain, little one. She told me to—to take care of you."