But the Margherita drew herself haughtily away from the Queen's outstretched hand.
"I do not understand," she said, in a tone that was half resentful. "I am ever at your Majesty's command for loyalty and service: but this custom displeaseth me—I pray your Majesty, let it be dismissed."
"Nay, Margherita, it is my right;" the Queen persisted. "I would have thee choose one of three noble knights whom I will present to thee."
"Three!" she echoed with a sensation of relief: then, after all, her secret had not been guessed: it was truly some freak of the Queen's, and she turned more willingly to listen.
"The first is of rare nobility, whom I fain would honor in bestowing upon him the hand of one so dear—because he hath spent himself for me, and hath held his life little when it might serve me."
Margherita half opened her lips to speak, then closed them resolutely and held silence—a faint flush growing in her cheek.
"The next is one of a most ancient house, of vast estates, it hath been told me, which he himself nameth not, save for some generous use when there is need: of whom all men speak well, because of a certain strength he hath; but women rarely, for the scorn he showeth for heartless trifling. If he should love a woman, she need not fear to trust him."
"And if he loveth not though he were a prince among men," Margherita answered with an effort at playful speech, "it were folly to trust his vows."
"Truly it were folly," the Queen replied, growing suddenly pensive, "and it were not easy to know wisdom from folly in such a matter, perchance. Let us speak no more of it—though I had a third to bring before thee."
"Then," said Margherita with unexpected docility, "an' it please your Majesty I will listen."