But the dog only gazed into her Majesty's face with a spaniel's soft affectionate eyes, and wagged its tail; and though she cried to it again and again, and angrily, it made no attempt to obey. On that a deep-drawn breath ran round the circle; one looked at another; and there were raised eyebrows. A score of heads were thrust forward, and some who had seemed merry enough the moment before looked grave as mutes now.
"It used to bark for France and growl for Spain," the Cardinal continued in his softest voice. "One of the charmingest things, madam, I ever saw. Perhaps if your Majesty would try——"
"France!" the Queen cried imperiously; and she stamped on the floor. "France! France!"
But the dog only retreated, cowering and dismayed. From a distance it wagged its tail pitifully.
"France!" cried the Queen, almost with passion. The dog cowered.
"I am afraid, my Lord, that it has lost its accomplishments—in your company!" the Cardinal said, a faint smile curling his lips.
The Bishop dropped a smothered oath. "It is the dog!" he cried vehemently.
But the Queen turned to him sharply, her face crimson.
"I do not agree with you!" she replied. "It is like the dog, but it is not the dog. And more, my Lord," she continued, with vehemence equal to his own, "I should be glad if you would explain how you came into possession of this dog. A dog so nearly resembling my dog—and yet not my dog—could not be found in a moment nor without some foul contrivance."
"It has forgotten its tricks," the Bishop said.