The king turned his face inquiringly to the queen. "Do you understand, Marie, what he wants to say?" he whispered.
"I think I can guess," answered Marie Antoinette softly, and she walked quickly across the room, opened the door of the adjoining apartment, and whispered a few words to the page who was there. Then she returned to the king, but while doing so she stepped upon the bouquet which had fallen out of the boy's hands when his father lifted him up.
"Oh, my pretty violets, my pretty roses," cried the prince, sadly, and his face put on a sorrowful expression. But he quickly brightened, and, looking up at the queen, he said, smiling, "Mamma queen, I wish you always walked on flowers which I have planted and plucked for you!"
At this moment the door softly opened, and a little black dog stepped in, and ran forward, whining, directly up to the prince.
"Moufflet," cried the child, falling upon his knee, "Moufflet!"
The little dog, with its long, curly locks of hair, put its fore- paws upon the shoulders of the boy and eagerly and tenderly licked his laughing, rosy face.
"Now, my Louis," asked the queen, "have I guessed right?—wasn't it the doggy that you wanted so much?"
"Mamma queen has guessed it," cried the boy joyfully, putting his arms around the neck of the dog. "Does Moufflet belong to my inheritance too? Do I receive him, since my brother has left him behind?"
"Yes, my son, the little dog belongs to your inheritance," answered the king, with a sad smile.
The child shouted with pleasure, and pressed the dog close to his breast. "Moufflet is mine!" he cried, glowing with joy, "Moufflet is my inheritance!"