“Since she saved the life of our lord the King, I have often thought of her!” went on Teresa—“I have even hoped to see her! Dearest Madam, would you not have been glad to thank her once before she died?”
The Queen’s face hardened.
“She only did her duty!” was the cold answer—“Every subject in the realm would be proud to have the chance of being the King’s defender!”
At that moment the door opened, and Sir Roger de Launay entered,—then drew back in some surprise and hesitation.
“I crave your pardon, Madam!” he said, bowing low—“I thought the King was here!”
“Truly the King should be here by now,”—replied the Queen gently—“But he is doubtless detained among the people, who wait upon his footsteps, as though he were a demi-god!” She smiled happily. “He went out to see yonder strange funeral pageant—and left no word of the hour of his return.”
Sir Roger looked perplexed. The Queen noticed his expression of anxiety.
“Stay but a moment, Sir Roger,” she added—“Now I remember, he bade me at sunset, go to my own room and fetch a packet I would find from him there,—he may be waiting for me now!”
She retired, the radiant smile still upon her face, and Sir Roger looked at his sister with concern for her tearful eyes.
“Weeping, Teresa?” he said—“What is the trouble?”