When she turned, Lascelles was still kneeling before the doorway, his eyes upon the ground.
'Why, I thank you,' she said. 'Gentleman, you may get you gone back to the Archbishop.'
She was thinking of returning to her duel of patience with the Lady Mary. But looking upon his blond and agreeable features she stayed for a minute.
'I know your face,' she said. 'Where have I seen you?'
He looked up at her; his eyes were blue and noticeable, because at times of emotion he was so wide-lidded that the whites showed round the pupils of them.
'Certainly I have seen you,' the Queen said.
'It is a royal gift,' he said, 'the memory of faces. I am the Archbishop's poor gentleman, Lascelles.'
The Queen said—
'Lascelles? Lascelles?' and searched her memory.
'I have a sister, the spit and twin of me,' he answered; 'and her name is Mary.'