’Oh, I don’t think it’s droll.  I know, all children have those desperate love affairs.  But they seem to me pathetic.  How did it go on?’

’Oh, for two or three years we lived in Paradise.  There were no other boys in the neighbourhood, so she was constant.’

‘For three years?  And then?’

’Then my grandmother died, and I was carried off to Paris.  She remained here.  And so it ended.’

‘And when did you meet her next?  After you were grown up?’

‘I have never met her since.’

‘You must have followed her career with a special interest, though?’

‘Ah, quant a ca!’

’Her marriage, her coronation, her divorce.  Poor Woman!  What she must have suffered.  Have you made any attempt to see her since you came back to Saint-Graal?’

‘Ah, merci, non!  If she wanted to see me, she’d send for me.’

’She sees no one, everybody says.  But I should think she’d like to see you—­her old playmate.  If she should send for you—­But I suppose I musn’t ask you to tell me about it afterwards?  Of course, like everybody else in her neighbourhood, I’m awfully interested in her.’

There was a moment’s silence.  She looked at the moss beneath her, and stroked it lightly with a finger-tip.  Paul looked at her.

‘You’re horribly unkind,’ he said at last.

‘Unkind?’ She raised wide eyes of innocent surprise.

‘You know I’m in an agony of curiosity.’

‘About what?’

‘About you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yourself.’

She lifted the cluster of charms at the end of her watch-chain.  One of them was a tiny golden whistle.  On this she blew, and Bezigue came trotting up.  She mounted him to-day without Paul’s assistance.  Smiling down on the young man, she said, ’Oh, after the reckless way in which I’ve cast the conventions to the winds, you really can’t expect me to give you my name and address.’  And before he could answer, she was gone.

He walked about for the rest of the day in a great state of excitement.  ‘My dear,’ he told himself, ’if you’re not careful, something serious will happen to you.’

IX.

When he woke up he saw that it was raining; and in that part of the world it really never does rain but it pours.  Needless to touch upon the impatient ennui with which he roamed the house.  He sent for Andre to lunch with him.

‘Andre, can’t you do something to stop this rain?’ he asked; but Andre stared.  ‘Oh, I was thinking of the priests of Baal,’ Paul explained.  ‘I beg your pardon.’  And after the coffee, ’Let’s go up and play in the garret,’ he proposed:  at which Andre stared harder still.  ’We always used to play in the garret on rainy days,’ Paul reminded him.  ‘Mais, ma foi, monsieur, nous ne sommes plus des gosses,’ Andre answered.

‘Is there any news about the Queen?’ Paul asked.