“The Prince cannot be of your opinion, Sir,” returned Constance, “for I hear he is singularly devout. He will require no other graces in her Majesty save those of her mind and heart.”
“You have been rightly informed as to the Prince’s zeal in religious matters, Madam,” said Philip. “He is as strict as you appear to be; but he is by no means indifferent to beauty, and I am certain he could not behold you unmoved.”
“You do him wrong, Sir,” said Constance. “The Queen must now exclusively occupy his heart. A thought of any other would be sinful, and a pious prince would never indulge such a thought.”
“A very pertinent remark. I trust he may profit by it,” muttered Osbert.
“The sin being involuntary, would lie lightly on his conscience,” observed Philip. “But I must prevail on the Prince to mention your name to the Queen. She ought to be made acquainted with your merits, and might, possibly, find some place for you near her royal person.”
“I pray you, Sir, do not. I have no desire to emerge from my present obscurity. But for my father, I should embrace the life of a cloister. That is my real vocation.”
“It must not be, Madam!” exclaimed Osbert, unable to restrain himself. “You would do a wrong to society to deprive it of its chief ornament.”
“You see, Madam, that this gentleman is as much opposed to the step as I myself should be,” observed Philip. “You must not quit a world you are so well calculated to adorn. No, no; you must be one of her Majesty’s attendants—you must grace a court.”
“I grace a court!” exclaimed Constance. “I am not fit for it. But you are mocking me, Sir.”
“By Saint Iago I am not!” cried Philip. “I was never more serious in my life. I will prove to you I am in earnest——”