“Is he so handsome as they say? Alas, I am thought too young to engage in court festivities, and in spite of my pleadings I was not allowed even to see his arrival.”
The king had now recovered his composure, and there was a return of his gallant bearing.
“Madam, tell me your name, and I shall intercede that so rigid a rule for one so fair may be relaxed.”
“Ah, now your impudence reasserts itself. My name is not for you. How can a humble Scottish knight hope to soften a rule promulgated by the King of France himself?”
“Madam, you forget that we are guests of France, and in this courteous country nothing is denied us. We meet with no refusals except from proud ladies like yourself. I shall ask my captain, he shall pass my request to the general, who will speak to the King of Scotland, and the king, when he knows how beautiful you are, will beg the favour from Francis himself.”
The girl clasped her hands with exuberant delight.
“I wonder if it is possible,” she said, leaning towards the gay cavalier, as if he were now her dearest friend—for indeed it was quite evident that she thought much of him in spite of his irregular approach. She was too young to feel the rules of etiquette otherwise than annoying bonds, and like an imprisoned wild bird, was willing to take any course that promised liberty.
“Your name, then, madam?”
“My name is Madeleine.”