She stood sullenly, looking away.
"Listen, Anne," he continued, "it means much to any man who has difficult affairs on his shoulders to know his wife is bearing her part with patience and discretion——"
"Ah, now you are preaching, like my Uncles Augustus and William," cried the Princess fiercely, "and that, princely Highness, is what I would never endure."
She swept all the cards savagely from the window-seat to the floor and turned away; the Prince's anger was checked by the sight of the limp that marred her walk and impeded her haste to be gone from him.
Rénèe began picking up the cards; the light fell over her now, glorifying her opulent beauty that neither her plain dress nor her own cold indifference could eclipse.
"Where is the Princess going?" asked William.
"I think she will go to the workshop of her alchemist, as she calls Duprès, the Burgundian whom Your Highness is sheltering."
The Prince looked keenly at this fair woman who might have so easily been brilliant and who was so extraordinarily passive and so unnaturally patient; it was not the first time he had noticed her utter self-effacement.
"Child," he said kindly, "I fear your service is a dull one and your mistress difficult."
"I hope for nothing better, Your Highness," replied Rénèe quickly.