“You said you’d make me look pretty too, Jeanne,” he observed.  “I don’t care for myself—­boys never care about being grandly dressed—­but I shall look rather funny beside you, shan’t I?”

“Wait a minute,” said Jeanne, “you’re not ready yet.  I’m going to powder you.  Shut your eyes.”

He did so, and therefore could not see what Jeanne did, but he felt a sort of soft puff fly all over him, and opening his eyes again at Jeanne’s bidding, saw, to his amazement, that he too was now dressed in the same pretty shiny stuff as his little cousin.  They looked just like two Christmas angels on the top of a frosted Twelfth Night cake.

“There now,” said Jeanne, “aren’t you pleased?  You don’t know how nice you look.  Now, Dudu we’re quite ready.  Are we to fly up to the castle?”

Dudu nodded his wise head.  Jeanne took Hugh’s hand, and without Hugh’s quite knowing how it was managed, they all flew up the wall together, and found themselves standing on the castle terrace.  There was no light streaming out from the windows this time, and the peacocks were quite motionless at their post.

“Are they asleep?” said Hugh.

“Perhaps,” said Dudu, speaking for the first time.  “They lead a monotonous life, you see.  But there is no occasion to disturb them.”

They were standing just in front of the door, by which, the last time, Hugh had entered the long lighted-up passage.  As they stood waiting, the door slowly opened, but to Hugh’s great surprise the inside was perfectly different.  A very large white-painted hall was revealed to them.  The ceiling was arched, and looking up, it seemed so very high, that it gave one more the feeling of being the sky than the roof of a house.  This great hall was perfectly empty, but yet it did not feel chilly, and a faint pleasant perfume stole through it, as if not far off sweet-scented flowers and plants were growing.

Hugh and Jeanne stood hand-in-hand and looked around them.  The door by which they had entered had closed noiselessly, and when they turned to see the way by which they had come in, no sign of a door was there.  In the panels of white wood which formed the walls, it was somehow concealed.

“How shall we ever get out again?” said Hugh.

But Jeanne only laughed.

“We needn’t trouble about that,” she said.  “We got back all right the last time.  What I want to know is what are we to do next?  I see no way out of this hall, and though it’s rather nice, it’s not very amusing.  Dudu, I wish you would sit still—­you keep giving little juggles on my head that are very uncomfortable, and make me feel as if I had a hat on that was always tumbling off.”

“I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle Jeanne,” replied Dudu with great dignity.  “You really do say such foolish things sometimes that it is impossible to restrain one’s feelings altogether.  No way out of this hall, do you say, when it is the entrance to everywhere?”