others to a far corner of the room, he invited them to sit down. They would not leave us. That would be quite out of the question. Did they think that Louis would attempt to rape me? I looked at Louis and wanted to laugh, but he saw no humor in the situation.
I took him to a window-seat and there we sat side by side. The whole room separated us from the other little party—and this was as near to being alone together that we should get before we were married.
“You had a long and arduous journey, my lord,” I said.
He stammered: “Yes . . . we had. The heat was so intense that we were forced to travel by night.”
“And sleep by day?”
He nodded. I could see that he found it difficult to stop looking at me. I was pleased for I was sure that he found me attractive.
“It must have been slow progress traveling with so much. It is like an army.”
“There . . . there were the packhorses carrying the tents and provisions and cooking utensils. Yes . . . it was like an army. It has taken us most part of a month to get here.”
I leaned toward him smiling. “I hope you will find the journey worthwhile.”
He stammered: “Oh, yes . . . yes . . . indeed.”
Poor boy. He did not know how to pay compliments. But somehow I liked him for that. In fact I was liking him more every minute. There was a rather charming innocence about him.
He said: “I . . . I have come to ask your hand in marriage.”
“I know. I was expecting you.”
“I trust that I shall be fortunate enough to please you.”
“And I you.”
“You . . . you are beautiful.”
“Oh, did you expect some horrid creature with bad teeth and a squint?”
“No, I had heard that you were beautiful.”
“And you thought that all prospective brides are said to be that?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “That is so,” he said. “But you are really beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I am sure we shall like each other.”
He looked very relieved.
I said: “Tell me about the Court of France.”
“I hope soon you will see it for yourself.”
“I wonder if it is anything like our Court here. Do you like music?”
“Yes.”
“Then that is something we both like.”
“I . . . I have only been at Court for a few years. Before, I was with the Abbot Suger at St. Denis. I was going into the Church but my brother . . .”
“Yes, I know. He was killed by a pig.”
“It changed my life.”
“Think of that. But for a pig you would not be sitting here today.”
“It is God’s will.”
“I suppose one could say that of anything.”
The Abbot Suger and the Archbishop had risen simultaneously. The tte--tte with my future husband had gone on long enough for propriety. I felt rather annoyed that I should be told what I might and might not do. That situation should soon be rectified, but this was not the occasion to show my irritation. I wanted to create a good impression on Louis, so I dutifully rose and said
au revoir
to him and the rest of the company.
Then I went to Petronilla, to tell her about my first encounter with my bridegroom elect.
“He looks mild,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I peeped down when they arrived. I had a good view. He hardly looks like the man I should have expected you to marry. I thought at first that it was one of the
I took him to a window-seat and there we sat side by side. The whole room separated us from the other little party—and this was as near to being alone together that we should get before we were married.
“You had a long and arduous journey, my lord,” I said.
He stammered: “Yes . . . we had. The heat was so intense that we were forced to travel by night.”
“And sleep by day?”
He nodded. I could see that he found it difficult to stop looking at me. I was pleased for I was sure that he found me attractive.
“It must have been slow progress traveling with so much. It is like an army.”
“There . . . there were the packhorses carrying the tents and provisions and cooking utensils. Yes . . . it was like an army. It has taken us most part of a month to get here.”
I leaned toward him smiling. “I hope you will find the journey worthwhile.”
He stammered: “Oh, yes . . . yes . . . indeed.”
Poor boy. He did not know how to pay compliments. But somehow I liked him for that. In fact I was liking him more every minute. There was a rather charming innocence about him.
He said: “I . . . I have come to ask your hand in marriage.”
“I know. I was expecting you.”
“I trust that I shall be fortunate enough to please you.”
“And I you.”
“You . . . you are beautiful.”
“Oh, did you expect some horrid creature with bad teeth and a squint?”
“No, I had heard that you were beautiful.”
“And you thought that all prospective brides are said to be that?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “That is so,” he said. “But you are really beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I am sure we shall like each other.”
He looked very relieved.
I said: “Tell me about the Court of France.”
“I hope soon you will see it for yourself.”
“I wonder if it is anything like our Court here. Do you like music?”
“Yes.”
“Then that is something we both like.”
“I . . . I have only been at Court for a few years. Before, I was with the Abbot Suger at St. Denis. I was going into the Church but my brother . . .”
“Yes, I know. He was killed by a pig.”
“It changed my life.”
“Think of that. But for a pig you would not be sitting here today.”
“It is God’s will.”
“I suppose one could say that of anything.”
The Abbot Suger and the Archbishop had risen simultaneously. The tte--tte with my future husband had gone on long enough for propriety. I felt rather annoyed that I should be told what I might and might not do. That situation should soon be rectified, but this was not the occasion to show my irritation. I wanted to create a good impression on Louis, so I dutifully rose and said
au revoir
to him and the rest of the company.
Then I went to Petronilla, to tell her about my first encounter with my bridegroom elect.
“He looks mild,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I peeped down when they arrived. I had a good view. He hardly looks like the man I should have expected you to marry. I thought at first that it was one of the
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