“Se looks jus' as Marie-Celeste said,” remarked Albert proudly, his sceptical spirit of the morning wholly transformed into one of profound admiration; and Marie-Celeste, asking that she might hold the case in her own hand, and gazing entranced upon the dear little face looking out at her, said joyfully, “Yes, she does look as I said, doesn't she?” Then she reverently laid the miniature back upon the Queen's lap, as though counting it quite too precious to be long out of royal keeping. “It seems to me now I can just see,” she said, gazing fondly down at the picture where it lay, “the way she looked that day when the King's men went to bring her to England. One of them dropped on one knee and said, 'Madame, if God pleases, you shall be our Queen and lady;' and then she made a little courtesy like this, and answered without a word from anybody, 'Sir, if it please God and my lord and father, I shall be most happy, for I am told the Queen of England is a very great lady.'”
Nothing could have been prettier than the wholly unconscious way in which Marie-Celeste impersonated the grandeur and dignity of the little Isabel, courtesy and all; so that the Queen said admiringly, “My dear, you are a real little queen yourself, and your kingdom must lie in the hearts of all who know you;” and Albert, anxious at once to acquit himself as most loyal of her subjects, shook his head emphatically and remarked, “Marie-Celeste is a daisy, and she ought to live in a castle jus' as fine as anybody;” and then, to prove the wealth of his devotion, he threw his two arms around her waist, which was as high as he could reach, in most uncourtly fashion.
“Hush, Albert,” said Marie-Celeste, blushingly pushing him from her, for this demonstration was as embarrassing as unexpected; “please go and sit down by Miss Belmore, for we are not half through, are we?” looking toward the Queen for confirmation of the fact.
“Why, no indeed! Little Isabel isn't even married yet, Albert;” and Albert climbed back, just as he had intended to do, to his seat beside Miss Belmore, but with the most supercilious smile on his little face, as though he, to whom story-telling was the most delightful thing in the world, did not know whether a story was finished or not. But no matter, he did not mind being misunderstood, even by the Queen's mother, if Marie-Celeste would only go on; and Marie-Celeste, as eager to talk as her listeners to hear, went on.
“And so it came about that they took the little Isabel to England, and Madame de Coucy, a lady whom Isabel dearly loved, came with her to be her governess; and next to Madame de Coucy, Isabel loved Simonette. Simonette was a poor little slave brought to France from one of the crusades, and I suppose they grew more fond of each other every day, because when they came to England both were so far away from their old home. On the way to England Richard came to meet the little Isabel at Calais, in France, and then she was escorted to London in fine style, and after that all her queen's fixings were taken off and she was brought here to this very Castle, that was to be her home, and everybody called her Madame La Petite Reine.” Albert would have given a good deal to know what those French words meant, and wished he had not made such a row when his mother had once suggested a French bonne; but he would not betray his ignorance for anything, and Marie-Celeste was allowed to proceed uninterrupted.
“And here in this dear old Castle La Petite Reine had a beautiful time. She used to study with Madame de Coucy in the mornings and go for walks among the flowers out in the garden there in the afternoon, and way beyond it too sometimes, and Richard would often come down from London for a visit, and he taught her English courtly ways and to play the mandolin” (Albert looked significantly toward the quaint mandolin, with a faded blue ribbon attached to it, that was lying among the other treasures on the table); “and when the King could not come for a regular visit, he would just ride down for a word and kiss. And so the time went by, and sometimes Isabel would go to hear the canons preach in St. George's, and sometimes she would watch the knights riding in the tilt-yard from one of the Castle windows; only sometimes, when one knight hurt another with his spear or tumbled him from his horse, so that he was carried away stunned and bleeding, she saw more than she wanted to see, and would not go near those windows again for days. And then at last there came a sad time for Isabel, for the King had decided he must go himself and take charge of his army, which was trying to put down an insurrection in Ireland. But before he rode away from Windsor Castle, he said he would have a great tournament in the tilt-yard in honor of St. George, and he had a beautiful green uniform made, and he was to carry the Queen's device of a little white falcon, and Isabel and her maids were to be present and give the crown to whichever knight should be victorious. But very few came to the tournament, for there were very few who really cared for the King, and it was all a failure, and the Castle seemed a very sad place for La Petite Reine, because the King was going away.”
“And now,” said Albert, appealing to the Queen, for he felt that quite too much was being taken for granted, “will you please tell me what is a tilt-yard? and what it was dat de knignts would not tome to? and what was dat little white ting of the Queen's dat de King carried?” and impatiently as Marie-Celeste brooked the interruption, there was nothing for it but to wait while Her Majesty explained that the tilt-yard was a sort of riding-school for the knights, where they practised for the tournaments, and that the tournaments were occasions when the knights, spear in hand, came together to ride against each other, with a great many people looking on, and when the one who unseated all those who rode against him won the prize. As for the little white thing of Isabel's, that was a falcon—that is, a pretty live white bird, which was Isabel's device or emblem; and when the King carried that he showed how he delighted to honor his own little child-queen.