The men, to whom these words were addressed, were evidently amused at the desires of the Queen Mother, and immediately made other proposals, which, however, met with the same fate. Isabeau rejected everything; and at last, when the others, half in jest and half in earnest, began to disapprove of her conduct, she merely begged to be left in peace. "Gentlemen," said she, "Patience. I beg you to give me a chance to speak for at least a moment." This request was followed by ironical applause, for she had done all the talking thus far. But she went on quite unconcernedly: "Gentlemen, I beg you, teach me to understand men. What is an excursion into the country? It is taking breakfast and playing cards. Isn't that so?"
"Isabeau is always right," laughed Balafré giving her a slap on the shoulder. "We will play cards. This is a capital place for it; I almost think that everyone must win here. And the ladies can go to walk in the meantime or perhaps take a forenoon nap. That will do them the most good, and an hour and a half will be time enough. And at twelve o'clock we will meet again. And the menu shall be according to the judgment of our Queen. Yes, Queen, life is still sweet. To be sure that is from 'Don Carlos.' But must everything be quoted from the 'Maid of Orleans'?"
That shot struck home and the two younger girls giggled, although they had scarcely understood the innuendo. But Isabeau who had grown up amongst conversations that were always interspersed with such slightly hinted sarcasms, remained perfectly calm and said, turning to the three other women: "Ladies, if I may beg you, we are now abandoned and have two hours to ourselves. For that matter, things might be worse."
Thereupon they rose and went into the house, where the Queen went to the kitchen, and after greeting those present in a friendly but superior manner, she asked for the host. The latter was not in the house, so the young woman offered to go and call him in from the garden, but Isabeau would not hear of it. She would go herself, and she actually went, still followed by her cortège of three (Balafré called them the hen and chickens). She went into the garden, where she found the host arranging the new asparagus beds. Close by there was an old-fashioned greenhouse, very low in front, with big, sloping windows, and a somewhat broken-down wall on which Lena and the daughters of Thibaut d'Arc sat, while Isabeau was arranging her business.
"We have come," said she, "to speak with you about the luncheon. What can we have?"
"Everything you are pleased to order."
"Everything? That is a great deal, almost too much. Now I should like eels. Only not like this, but like this." And as she spoke she pointed first to a ring on her finger and then to her broad thick bracelet.
"I am very sorry, ladies," answered the host. "We have no eels. Nor any kind of fish; I cannot serve you with fish, it is an exception. Yesterday we had tench and dill, but it came from Berlin. If I want a fish, I have to go to the Cologne fish market for it."
"What a pity! We could have brought one with us. But what have you then?"
"A saddle of venison."