"She called that gardener," said the girl, "just as I was walking out of the little gate. Of course I had to walk slowly. She is very malicious—poor thing," she added quickly.
They were close to a little arbor now, and not so far from the castle. Caroline could see figures here and there strolling on the upper terraces and sitting on the piazzas. The tinkle of a mandolin cut the soft air and the new-mown grass smelled sweet.
"I think this castle is lovely, though, don't you, Joan of Arc?" she burst out.
"It is an abominable castle," said the girl, in a muffled voice. "Abominable!"
"Well, then," said Caroline, practically, "if you feel that way, you'd better escape."
The girl stared at her.
"Tell me," she said, earnestly, "have you ever been in this place before? Where do you live?"
Caroline shrugged her shoulders impishly.
"I am Mary Queen of Scots," she replied, obstinately, "and I live in Scotland. Of course, I've been here before. Who are all those other people in the castle?"
The girl drew a long, worried breath. "I believe I should go mad if I stayed here much longer," she said, to herself. She drew Caroline down beside her behind the arbor.