As soon as the exercises in the chapel were concluded the little princess retired to her own apartments, whispering to Le Glorieux as she passed him, "Bring Cimburga and the miller's son to me, and let no one else accompany you."
Marveling at this summons, and wondering what the daughter of their future emperor could have to say to them, now that Saint Monica had decided in the girl's favor, settling the question of her innocence, the young couple followed the jester. The Lady Marguerite had dismissed even Cunegunda, and was all alone when they entered the room. She sat in a large chair, and in a rather unprincess-like fashion, for she had been chilled in the cold chapel, and she had drawn her feet up under the folds of her velvet gown. After the young couple had knelt at her feet, and had saluted her according to the custom of the time, she bade them stand before her, and Le Glorieux said with great frankness, "I will leave the room if you say so, little Princess; but to be strictly honest about it, I should like mightily to stay and hear what you have to say to these young folk, and you may be sure that I shall not mention it to a soul."
"It is not a secret," replied the princess; "I was only afraid that they might be embarrassed by an audience."
"They will not be embarrassed by my presence," said he quickly, "for a fool in a room is of no more importance than a cat."
"You make yourself of small account when it is to gain your own ends, but stay, if you like," she returned, laughing.
"And as I do like, I will stay," he returned, sitting down on the floor beside her chair.
The young couple, standing, blushing and abashed before her, gazed with awe at the little maiden, who seemed almost lost in the embrace of the huge chair in which she sat. But when they saw that her eyes were soft and shining, that her lips were curved into a friendly smile, they forgot for the moment that she was of royal blood, and would, doubtless, one day wear the crown of a mighty kingdom. A silver griffin of a sconce near by held a light in its claws, which fell full upon Cimburga and the miller's son. The latter was tall and straight, with an honest, noble countenance, and certainly there were many ladies who were not half so pretty as Cimburga. The little princess wondered why these humble people should be so handsome, and concluded that the good God had given them personal comeliness to make up for lack of worldly goods, for certainly the athletic figure of the youth could have been no handsomer clad in velvet and satin than in the plain garments he now wore, and the flash of jewels could have made the eyes of Cimburga no brighter than they were at this moment.
"Your name is Cimburga?" said Marguerite, addressing the girl; "that is a Polish name."
"Yes, your Highness, it is the name of my grandmother, who was born in Poland, and who was given the name of the mother of his Imperial Majesty, the grandfather of your gracious Highness."
"That is a mixture of relatives that makes my head ache," observed Le Glorieux.