CHAPTER LXV.
Paris.
When they were arrived within a short distance from Paris, Wallace wrote a few lines to King Philip, informing him who were the companions of his journey, and that he would rest near the Abbey of St. Genevieve until he should receive his majesty's greetings to Bruce; also the queen's granted protection for the daughter of the Earl of Mar. Grimsby was the bearer of this letter. He soon returned with an escort of honor, accompanied by Prince Louis himself. At sight of Wallace he flew into his arms, and after embracing him again and again with all the unchecked ardor of youthful gratitude, he presented to him a packet from the king.
It expressed the satisfaction of Philip at the near prospect of his seeing the man whom he had so long admired, and whose valor had wrought him such service as the preservation of his son. He then added that he had other matters to thank him for when they should meet, and subjects to discuss which would be much elucidated by the presence of Bruce. "According to your request," continued he, "the name of neither shall be made public at my court. My own family only know who are to be my illustrious guests. The queen is impatient to bid them welcome, and no less eager to greet the Lady Helen Mar with her friendship and protection."
A beautiful palfrey, superbly caparisoned, and tossing its fair neck amid the pride of its gorgeous chamfraine, was led forward by a page. Two ladies, also, bearing rich apparel for Helen, appeared in the train. When their errand was made known to Wallace, he communicated it to Helen. Her delicacy indeed wished to lay aside her page's apparel before she was presented to the queen; but she had been so happy while she wore it!
"Days have passed with me in these garments," said she to herself, "which may never occur again!"
The laddies were conducted to her. They delivered a gracious message from their royal mistress, and opened the caskets. Helen sighed; she could urge nothing in opposition to their embassy, and reluctantly assented to the change they were to make in her appearance. She stood mute while they disarrayed her of her humble guise, and clothed her in the robes of France. During their attendance, in the adulatory strains of the court, they broke out in encomiums on the graces of her person; but to all this she turned an inattentive ear—her mind was absorbed in what she had enjoyed, in the splendid penance she might now undergo.
One of the women was throwing the page's clothes carelessly into a bag, when Helen perceiving her, with ill-concealed eagerness, cried:
"Take care of that suit, it is more precious to me than gold or jewels."
"Indeed!" answered the attendant, more respectfully folding it; "it does not seem of very rich silk."