He looked at Hugh for an instant or two, gravely and scrutinisingly, then bowed politely.  Hugh, who was half sitting up in bed, bowed too, but without speaking.  He remembered Jeanne’s charges to be very polite to the raven, and thought it better to take no liberties with him, but to wait patiently till he heard what Monsieur Dudu had to say.  For somehow it seemed to him a matter of course that the raven could speak—­he was not the very least surprised when at last Dudu cleared his throat pompously and began—­

“You have been expecting me, have you not?”

Hugh hesitated.

“I don’t know exactly.  I’m not quite sure.  Yes, I think I thought perhaps you’d come.  But oh! if you please, Monsieur Dudu,” he exclaimed, suddenly starting up, “do let me go and call Jeanne.  I promised her I would if you came, or if I saw anything funny.  Do let me go.  I won’t be a minute.”

But the raven cocked his head on one side and looked at Hugh rather sternly.

“No,” he said.  “You cannot go for Jeanne.  I do not wish it at present.”

Hugh felt rather angry.  Why should Dudu lay down the law to him in this way?

“But I promised,” he began.

“People should not promise what they are not sure of being able to perform,” he said sententiously.  “Besides, even if you did go to get Jeanne, she couldn’t come.  She is ever so far away.”

“Away!” repeated Hugh in amazement, “away!  Little Jeanne gone away.  Oh no, you must be joking Du—­, I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dudu.”

“Not at all,” said Dudu.  “She is away, and farther away than you or she has any notion of, even though if you went into her room you would see her little rosy face lying on the pillow. She is away.”

Hugh still looked puzzled, though rather less so.

“You mean that her thinking is away, I suppose,” he said.  “But I could wake her.”

Again the raven cocked his head on one side.

“No,” he said.  “You must be content to do my way at present.  Now, tell me what it is you want.  Why did you wish me to come to see you?”

“I wanted—­at least I thought, and Jeanne said so,” began Hugh.  “We thought perhaps you were a fairy, Monsieur Dudu, and that you could take us into the castle in the tapestry.  It looked so bright and real a few minutes ago,” he added, turning to the wall, which was now only faintly illumined by the moonlight, and looked no different from what Hugh had often seen it in the daytime.  “What has become of the beautiful light, Monsieur Dudu?  And the peacocks?  They have shut up their tails again——­”

“Never mind,” said the raven.  “So you want to see the castle, do you?” he added.

“Yes,” said Hugh; “but not so much as Jeanne.  It was she wanted it most.  She wants dreadfully to see it. I thought,” he added, rather timidly, “I thought we might play at giving a party in the castle, and inviting Houpet, you know, and Nibble.”