The two arched windows opened on to the courtyard and the distant prospect of the sea, and were crossed by the boughs of a poplar tree that shook golden and amber leaves against the mullions.
An Eastern rug spread the floor, and there was an open hearth on which some logs smouldered.
The bed stood out from the wall opposite the windows, and was hung with curtains of clean blue and white check linen; at the foot of it were two chairs, on one of which a white dog slept.
Beside the bed was a prie dieu, with an illuminated book on the rest, beneath which hung a long strip of embroidered silk, beyond that several coffers and chests, still unpacked, and a couch piled with skins and garments.
Two women and a man were talking together over the fire; they rose hastily at the entrance of the Prince, but he took no heed of them.
Aided by his wife, he came to the end of the bed and stood holding by the light rail.
Under the blue and white frill of the canopy a child lay asleep, his brown hair a tangle on the stiff white bolster, his flushed cheek pressed against his hand.
The coverlet that was worked with the arms of England on a blue ground was drawn up to his chin, his little body only slightly disturbed the smoothness of the heavy fall of the silk.
“In what manner did he become sick?” demanded the Prince hoarsely. “God wot, you might have looked to him better.”
The Princess quivered beneath his hand on her shoulder.