A gentle, sad smile played around the lips of the boy.
"I have been silent about the past, as I have been commanded to," he said, "but I have not forgotten it."
"Do you remember your mother?" asked the prince.
The boy trembled convulsively, a glowing red passed over his cheeks, and a deep paleness followed.
"Monsieur," he asked, with a tremulous voice, "would it be possible for me to forget my dear mamma queen?—my mamma queen who loved her little Louis Charles so much? Ah, sir, you would not have asked that if you had known how much pain you give me."
"I beg your pardon," said the prince, embarrassed. "I see you remember. But let me try you once more. Will you tell me what happened to you after being taken away from your cruel foster- parents? What were those people's names, and what were they?"
"My foster-parents, or my tormentors rather, were called Mr. and Mistress Simon. The man had been a cobbler, but afterward he was superintendent and turnkey in the Temple, and when I was taken away from my mamma, sister, and aunt, I had to live with these dreadful people."
"Did you fare badly there?"
"Very badly, sir; I was scolded and ill-treated, and the worst of all was that they wanted to compel me to sing ribald songs about my mamma queen."
"But you did not sing these songs?" asked the Prince de Conde.