"Love me for what you will so long as you do love me," answered he.
"And do not be afraid. I am quite sure I am not making any mistake.
The King trusts me as he never trusted Monsieur de Commines."
"And how well he trusts him we saw last night," she said, with a little bitter irony which surely might be pardoned. "But how can I help being afraid? Are you not all I have in the world?"
"Charles?"
"Do you think Charles counts for anything now? And yet he is a dear boy who has the good taste to approve warmly of Monsieur Stephen La Mothe. Did I not tell you, that day you were playing with the dogs, that you would win all our hearts?"
"And Monsieur Stephen La Mothe," said Stephen jestingly, "approves so warmly of the dear boy's approval, that if it would not be presumptuous he would ask his leave to beg his acceptance of a little remembrance of these last days."
"Ask his leave! Poor boy, he would be delighted. Dauphin of France though he is, he gets so few presents. What is it? Let me guess. Your lute! and you would sing——"
"No, not my lute, wicked that you are. And if I sang at all it would be Blaise's song adapted to this most blessed of blessed days.
Ursula is sweet to kiss,
Sweet to kiss, sweet to kiss."
I told Monsieur de Commines that was one thing I must have in a wife, and praise God, I have got it!"
"Hush, Stephen! Do you want all Amboise to hear your foolishness?"