"It matters to me, or I should not have asked thee," said I.
"I trust it will be for the noble Damoiselle's welfare," said she; and I could get her to say no more.
"Now, Margot, tell me something else," said I. "Why does the good God not make all things clear to everybody? What sayest thou?"
"He has not told me why, Damoiselle. Perhaps, to teach my Damoiselle to trust Him. There could be no trust if we always knew."
"But is not knowing better than trusting?" I replied.
"Is it?" responded Marguerite. "Does Monseigneur always take my Damoiselle into his secrets, and never require her to trust him? God is the great King of all the world. Kings always have secret matters. Surely the King of kings must have His state secrets too."
This seemed putting it on a new footing. I sat and considered the matter, while Marguerite took off my dove cote[#] and unbound my hair.
[#] The rich network which confined the hair; often of gold and precious stones.
"Still, I don't see why we may not know everything," I said at last.
"Does my Damoiselle remember what stood in the midst of the beautiful Garden of God, wherein Adam and Eva were put to dwell?"