about, and I want to finish my scarf, or it will not be done by the time I promised Bellegarde. Besides I do not fancy open balconies in the month of November; it is too cold.”
“Oh! but,” pleaded Louise, “the day has been so splendid—like summer in the forest. Pray come, madame.”
“Why do you plague me so? I never remember your great desire for open air before.” And Gabrielle rose. She was no sooner on the balcony, watching the last streaks of golden light glittering among the branches and lighting up the plain beyond in a ruddy mist, than all at once she heard a rustling noise, and on looking down saw, just under the balcony, on the grass-plot, a peasant on a horse, laden with a bundle of straw.
The peasant stopped and gazed at her for some time, then, throwing away the straw, he flung himself from his horse and fell on his knees before her, clasping his hands, as if about to worship at some shrine.
Juliette, Gabrielle’s sister, now joined her on the balcony. Readier-witted than she, Juliette whispered—
“Gabrielle, it is the King—he is disguised!”
Louise burst into a loud laugh at their surprise and ran away. It was now apparent why she was so anxious to make Gabrielle go on the balcony to see the sun set. Gabrielle had not dreamt of seeing the King, who was reported to be encamped at some distance. Her first feeling was one of anger for his utter want of dignity. To kneel on the wet grass, and in the dress of a peasant! Besides, this disguise was most unbecoming to him. He looked positively hideous.