"Here I have two of them already, but certainly they give one little peace. Have they been formally introduced? This is Diane, who will be a mighty huntress in her day. This we call Lui-même because," she paused, flashing a mischievous glance at La Mothe, "well, just because his temper is not very good. He is a bully and uses his teeth on poor Charlot, who is the weakest of the three and the one we love best. But Charlot has one bad habit, he is very inquisitive, and it will get you into trouble some day, Charlot dear": whereat Charlot cocked his ears and looked wise.
Later that afternoon Charles spoke his thanks for himself, and said them with the dignity of a Dauphin of France struggling through the shy manners of a self-conscious schoolboy. But interpenetrating both dignity and self-conscious diffidence there was a frankness which told La Mothe that Ursula de Vesc's influence was already at work. The cold distaste had already disappeared, nor was there any suggestion of a compelled gratitude. Commines and La Follette had not returned from their hawking, and only Father John and the girl were with the Dauphin.
He had been conversing with the priest, but broke off abruptly when La
Mothe was announced.
"Monsieur," he said, his hand stretched out as he went hastily to meet him, "there are some services hard to repay. No, I don't mean services, services is not the word. Services are for servants and I don't mean that, but perhaps you understand? And perhaps, too, some day you will teach me to ride as well as you do?"
"There is little to teach," answered La Mothe. "And as I told Hugues, it is Grey Roland who should be thanked."
"What the heir cannot do, being as yet a child," said the priest, "the grateful father can and surely will." Then he laid his hand on the Dauphin's shoulder. "Were you greatly afraid, my son? At such a time, with death so near, fear would not shame a man, much less a boy."
"When Bertrand swerved I was afraid just for a moment, for I did not know what was going to happen, but not afterwards."
"But afterwards, in that awful moment when hope was gone and the world slipped from you, when there was nothing real but God and your own soul, what were your thoughts then?"
The boy made no reply, but shifted uneasily under the hand which still rested upon him. The heavy eyes which had brightened while he spoke to La Mothe grew dull and peevishly sullen again as, according to habit, he glanced towards Ursula de Vesc. Following the glance La Mothe saw the girl shake her head warningly, apprehensively even: but Charles had not the obstinate Valois chin for nothing.
"Perhaps you have forgotten? At such times the mind is not very clear. Or perhaps it was like a dream? Dreams, you know, are forgotten when we wake."