"Your dress becomes you well, Anne," he said.
She glanced down at herself demurely; her lashes veiled a sudden gleam of triumph. "How kind of you, Sire, to notice—my poor gown."
"I was right," murmured Triboulet, joyfully, as he saw king and favorite walking together. "No one will ever replace the duchess."
Silent, hand in hand, the duke and the joculatrix stood upon the balcony. Below them lay the earth, wrapped in hazy light. Behind them, the court, with its glamour.
"Have I done well, Jacqueline, to answer the king as I have done?" he said finally. "Are you content to resign all—forever—here in France? To go with me—"
"Into a new world," she interrupted. "Once I asked you to take me, but you hesitated, and were like to leave me behind you."
"But now 'tis I who ask," he answered.
"And I—who hesitate?" looking out over the valley, where the shadow of a cloud crossed the land.
"Do you hesitate, Jacqueline?"
She turned. About her lips trembled the old fleeting smile.