“I would be glad if you would go on and tell the rest,” said Marie-Celeste; “all that happened afterward was so doleful I do not like to tell it.”
“Well, let me think,” said her Majesty. “I doubt if I can get all that followed quite straight and then there was silence for a few moments.
“Will somebody please go on,” remarked Albert, when he thought there had been quite enough time for thinking. The shadows were lengthening out there in the garden, and oh if they should have to go home before the story was done!
And then “somebody”—that is, the Queen—(who, as you know, was a good deal more of a somebody than Albert gave her credit for)—endeavored at once to allay the little fellow's impatience.
“I remember,” she said, “how sad was the parting between the King and the little Queen! How he walked with her, hand in hand, from the Castle into the lower ward, at the head of a long procession of loyal servants, and then into St. George's Chapel for a farewell service, and how they kneeled down before the altar, side by side, while the choir sang very sweetly. And then how he lifted the little Queen in his arms, for to him she was just a darling little sister, and kissed her over and over again, while she sobbed and sobbed, and begged him not to leave her all alone. After that he led her into the deanery—those are rooms set aside for different uses in connection with the chapel—and there he gave her a royal box of candies, and sat down and ate some with her, and tried to joke with her, and sipped a little wine, and then another long farewell, and he was gone, never to see the little Queen again.”
“Which died?” asked Albert, in a hoarse whisper.
“Oh, neither of them died, dear; only as soon as Richard returned from Ireland he was taken prisoner by the English nobles and compelled to resign his crown, and so was never able to come back to claim his Castle or his little bride. But for all that Richard fared no worse than he deserved, for though he was kind and good to little Isabel, he was false and cruel to almost every one beside. Indeed, he was false to little Isabel too, for while he was still at Windsor he gave orders to have Madame de Coucy, whom Isabel loved as her own mother, dismissed and sent back to France soon after he should have gone, and he was not honest enough to tell little Isabel of the plan. But, as the old chronicles say, 'Madame de Coucy was a woman of spirit,' and when the time came refused to go. 'Holding her office from the King of France, she owned no master but the King of France;' and although driven from the Castle, she remained at Windsor, and succeeded in keeping up some connection with the little Queen. And now the misfortunes of the poor little Isabel followed thick and fast. The partings from Richard and her governess Madame de Coucy, had thrown the child into a fever, and Richard's uncle, the Duke of York, in whose care she had been left, was at his wit's ends to know what to do. Meantime, Henry Bolingbroke, a nephew of Richard's, and a brave prince, had landed in England, and the people, who loved him, were ready to receive him and make him King in Richard's place. And now the Duke of York, fearing that Windsor was no longer a safe place for the little Queen, moved her to a castle called Wallingford, which had been built only for defence, and was stronger than Windsor. But it was all to no purpose. Everything gave way before the march of Henry Bolingbroke and his army. Windsor surrendered to a blast of trumpets, and a few days later the little Queen was yielded up a captive into Henry's hands, and was carried with faithful Simonette, her Saracen maid, to the Castle of Ledes; but Ledes, fortunately, proved to be a beautiful castle, with a large garden, and she was not treated harshly or unkindly. Madame de Coucy, meanwhile, started for France posthaste, and was the first to carry the news to the court of Charles that Madame Isabel had been captured and dethroned, and then you may be sure all France was up in arms, as they say, in a moment, threatening to avenge La Petite Reine. But, notwithstanding the threats of the French, nothing could be done at once to release the little Queen, and so it was a comfort to know that all this while Henry was caring for her welfare most kindly.”
At this point in the story the Queen, fearing that the long page from history might prove wearying to even so eager a little listener as Albert, suggested to Miss Belmore to bring some of the treasures from the table that they might have a closer look at them.
