'If you have, for once in a way rumour has told the truth. I lived at Saint-Graal till I was thirteen.'
'Then perhaps you knew her?'
'Her?'
'The Queen. Mademoiselle de la Granjolaye de Ravanches.'
'Oh, I knew her very well—when we were children.'
'Tell me all about her.'
'It would be a long story.'
She leaped from her horse; then, raising her riding whip, and looking the animal severely in the eye, 'Bézigue! Attention,' she said impressively. 'You're to stop exactly where you are and not play any tricks. Entendu? Bien.' She moved a few steps down the pathway, and stopped at an opening among the trees, where the ground was a cushion of bright green moss. 'By Jove, she is at her ease,' thought Paul, who followed her. 'How splendidly she walks—what undulations!' From the French point of view, as she must be aware, the situation gave him all sorts of rights.
She sank softly, gracefully, upon the moss.
'It's a long story. Tell it me,' she commanded, and pointed to the earth. He sat down facing her, at a little distance.