“I think that thou art over-young to make a marriage yet,” began my Lord; but my mistress saith quickly, before he could go further,—
“Dear Cousin, our new Queen Isabeau had but fourteen years when she wedded King Charles, and it is said that she hath meaner height than I.”
Her cousin smiled.
“Thou knowest that the Duc de Berry is far more in years than thyself?”
“Yet methinks I could like him well,” saith the Lady Eleonore, “and indeed this marriage suits me much.”
She looked so full of spirit, and withal so fair, that the Seigneur de la Rivière thought it well to take now a part himself.
“The lady knows her mind,” saith he, “and for a truth the Duc loves her right well. King Charles, who is a youthful liege himself, will welcome her, and at Paris she will find all things that a young maid loves.”
“I had forgot that in my lonely castle the young maid lacked much that other maids have. Still, child, thou knowest that I have loved thee well.”
At this my mistress went to her cousin and knelt by his knee, holding his hand and kissing of it.
“Dearest Cousin,” she cried, “there has been naught lacking in all thy kindness for me, and if it is thy wish that I stay with thee, send the Seigneur hence.”