“Thy little chat, though, dearest, was well enough?”
“I would not call him crafty, but I should say he was a man of considerable subtlety ...” the King evasively replied.
“One does not need, my dearest nectarine, a prodigy of intelligence however to take him in!”
“Before the proposed Loan, love, can be brought about, he may wish to question thee as to thy political opinions.”
The Queen gave a little light laugh.
“No one knows what my political opinions are; I don’t myself!”
“And I’m quite confident of it: But, indeed, my dear, we neglect our functions.”
“I only wish it could have been a long engagement, Willie....”
XV
In the cloister eaves, the birds were just awakening, and all the spider scales, in the gargoyled gables, glanced fresh with dew. Above the Pietà, on the porter’s gate, slow-speeding clouds, like knots of pink roses, came blowing across the sky, sailing away in titanic bouquets towards the clear horizon. All virginal in the early sunrise what enchantment the world possessed! The rhythmic sway-sway of the trees, the exhalations of the flowers, the ethereal candour of this early hour,—these raised the heart up to their Creator.