"So you see I am a good housewife, no more!" she continued, in a kind of wild gaiety. "Alas, I have no brains for business!"
"I have thought, too," said William, "that I would like to be a mere gentleman watching events, not guiding them; but these thoughts are beneath us—and idle visions."
"Idle visions!" repeated the Queen. "And you must go to the war again—Death's target—and I must stay behind and keep my countenance! I am such a poor weak fool!" she added, in bitter self-reproach.
The King raised her head and pressed it against his heart.
"That kind of fool I could never have done without," he said impetuously. "If I have ever achieved anything, the credit is to you, my dearest, my dearest——"
He dropped her hand, and abruptly broke his speech.
"What more can I want than to hear you say that?" answered Mary. "Only love me and I can bear anything——"
The King's brilliant eyes rested on her pale but smiling face; he spoke slowly, and his tired voice was hoarse and unequal.
"When I was a boy—a youth—I was so proud, so self-confident.... I remember I thought I was capable of anything—I took my inexperience, my handful of soldiers, into the field against France—against Condé! I had been very much alone, and so learnt reserve that I had almost lost the power of expression—I was also very unhappy—I think I had no support in the world but my pride—I thought God had elected me to be his Captain——"
He paused, but Mary did not speak. Only the little gurgle of the unseen fountain broke perfect stillness.