Court of King Louis the Fourteenth, and to have pointed out to him those visitors who were personages connected with it.  He was attracted by the sound of foreign tongues, and would inquire to which country a gentleman or lady belonged, and would thrust his head out of the window when they sauntered on the terraces below that he might hear them speak their language.  As was natural, he heard much interesting gossip from his attendants when they were not aware that he was observing, they feeling secure in his extreme youth.  He could not himself exactly have explained how his conception of the difference between the French and English Courts arose, but at seven years old, he in some way knew that King Louis was a finer gentleman than King Charles, that his Court was more elegant, and that the beauties who ruled it were not merry orange wenches, or romping card house-building maids of honour, or splendid viragoes who raved and stamped and poured forth oaths as fishwives do.  How did he know it—­and many other things also?  He knew it as children always know things their elders do not suspect them of remarking, but which, falling upon their little ears sink deep into their tiny minds, and lying there like seeds in rich earth, put forth shoots and press upwards until they pierce through the darkness and flower and bear fruit in the light of day.  He knew that a certain great Duchess of Portsmouth had been sent over from France by King Louis to gain something from King Charles, who had fallen in love with her.  The meaning of “falling in love” he was yet vague in his understanding of, but he knew that the people hated her because they thought she played tricks and would make trouble for England if she led the King as she tried to do.  The common people called her “Madame Carwell,” that being their pronunciation of the French name she had borne before she had been made a Duchess.  He had once heard his nurses Alison and Grace gossiping together of a great service of gold the King had given her, and which, when it had been on exhibition, had made the people so angry that they had said they would like to see it melted and poured down her throat.  “If he must give it,” they had grumbled, “he had better have bestowed it upon Madame Ellen.”

Hearing this, my lord Marquess had left his playing and gone to the women, where they stood enjoying their gossip and not thinking of him.  He stood and looked up at Alison in his grave little way.

“Who is Madame Ellen, Alison?” he inquired.

“Good Lord!” the woman exclaimed, aside to her companion.

“Why do the people like her better than the other?” he persisted.

At this moment Mistress Halsell entered the nursery, and her keen eye saw at once that his young Lordship had put some question to his attendants which they scarce knew how to answer.

“What does my lord Marquess ask, Grace?” she said; and my lord Marquess turned and looked at herself.