"Very dearly," he answered—quite grave now.
"Am I like her, Guy?"
Guy looked down on me, and smiled.
"Yes—and no," he said. "The Lady Clémence had lighter hair than thou; and her smile was very sweet. Thine eyes are darker, too, and brighter—there is something of the falcon in them: she had the eyes of the dove. Yet there is a likeness, though it is not easy to tell thee what."
"Did Monseigneur love her very much, Guy?" I said.
"More than he ever loved any other, I think," answered Guy. "He was married to my mother when both were little children, as thou knowest is generally the case: but he married thine for love. And—I don't know, but I always fancy that is the reason why he has ever been unwilling to have us affianced in infancy. When people are married as babies, and when they grow up they find that they do not like each other, it must be very disagreeable, I should think."
"I should think it was just horrible, Guy," said I. "But Alix and Guillot were affianced as babies."
"So they were," said he. "But I doubt if Guillot ever cared about it."
"Why, is Umberge one to care about?" I replied. "There is nothing in her of any sort. Was Alix very sorry, Guy, when her betrothed died? How old was she?"
"About ten years old," he said. "Oh no—not she. I do not think she had seen him five times."