"Ah, no—very few, compared with some. My mother, and my husband, and my two children:—that is all. I never knew my father, and I was an only child. But it may be, the fewer one has to love, the more one loves them."
"An only child!" said I. "But Perette calls thee aunt?"
"Ah, yes, she is my husband's niece,—the same thing."
I think Marguerite seems to agree with Lady Judith, though of course she does not express herself so well.
And I cannot help wondering how they arrange in Heaven. I suppose there will be thrones nearest the good Lord for the kings and the princes who will be there: and below that, velvet settles for the nobles; and beneath again, the crowd of common people. I should think that would be the arrangement. Because, of course, no one could expect them to mingle all together. That would be really shocking.
Yet I cannot altogether make it out. If Messeigneurs the holy Apostles were originally fishermen, and worked for their living—it is very queer. I do not understand it. But I suppose the holy angels will take care to put it right, and have a proper barrier between the Apostles and the nobles, and the poor villeins, who are admitted of special grace, through their own good deeds, and the super-abundant merits of the holy saints.
In the afternoon, when Guy was in audience of the Lord King and the Lady Queen, and Lady Isabel and Melisende were riding forth, with Messire Homfroy and Amaury as their cavaliers, I found Lady Judith and Lady Sybil busy spinning, and I brought my broidery and sat down with them. We did not talk much for a while,—only a few words now and then: when all at once Lady Judith said—
"Helena, wilt thou try this needle for thy work?"
I took the needle, and threaded it, and set to work again: but I found to my surprise that I could not get on at all. The needle would hardly go through the silk, and it left an ugly hole when it did. Lady Judith went on with her spinning for a few minutes, but at length she looked up and said—
"Well, Helena, how dost thou like that needle?"