“And so do I!” laughed the lady. “Now I know where I saw that border. Therefore, not having the copy before you——”
“You invented this variation. Upon my word, the race of wood-carvers has not come to an end,” laughed the young man. “I think that his Royal Highness will like this coffret well.”
All in a flash it came to Quentin who this was. Some time before he had heard that the Princess Margaret, daughter of the French King, was in the city, with her husband, Prince Henry of England. It was for the Prince that Master Gerard had made that other chest. Things linked themselves together in this world, it seemed, like the apricots and blossoms of his design.
“Finish the chest,” said the Princess after a pause. “I will have it for a traveling casket. Can you carve a head on the top—or two heads, facing one another, man and woman?”
“Like this?” asked Quentin, and he traced an outline on the bench. It was the lady’s beautiful profile.
Master Gerard came in just then, and Pol came slinking in at the back door. The next day Quentin was promoted to Pol’s place, and finished his chest in great content and happiness. It was the beginning in a long upward climb to success.