What was to be done?  Queen Mary’s letter to him begged him so far as was possible to give her French protection, and avoid compromising “that excellent Talbot,” and he thought it would be wisest for her to await the coming of the Envoy Extraordinary, M. de Pomponne Bellievre, and be presented by him.  In the meantime her remaining on board ship in this winter weather would be miserably uncomfortable, and Richmond and Greenwich were so near that any intercourse with her would be dangerous, especially if Langston was still in England.  Lodgings or inns where a young lady from the country could safely be bestowed were not easily to be procured without greater familiarity with the place than Mr. Talbot possessed, and he could as little think of placing her with Lady Talbot, whose gossiping tongue and shrewish temper were not for a moment to be trusted.  Therefore M de Chateauneuf’s proposal that the young lady should become Madame de Salmonnet’s guest at the embassy was not unwelcome.  The lady was elderly, Scottish, and, as M. de Chateauneuf with something of a shudder assured Mr. Talbot, “most respectable.”  And it was hoped that it would not be for long.  So, having seen her safely made over to the lady’s care, Richard ventured for the first time to make his presence in London known to his son, and to his kindred; and he was the more glad to have her in these quarters because Diccon told him that there was no doubt that Langston was lurking about the town, and indeed he was convinced that he had recognised that spy entering Walsingham’s house in the dress of a scrivener.  He would not alarm Cicely, but he bade her keep all her goods in a state ready for immediate departure, in case it should be needful to leave London at once after seeing the Queen.

The French Ambassador’s abode was an old conventual building on the river-side, consisting of a number of sets of separate chambers, like those of a college, opening on a quadrangle in the centre, and with one side occupied by the state apartments and chapel.  This arrangement eminently suited the French suite, every one of whom liked to have his own little arrangements of cookery, and to look after his own marmite in his own way, all being alike horrified at the gross English diet and lack of vegetables.  Many tried experiments in the way of growing salads in little gardens of their own, with little heed to the once beautiful green grass-plot which they broke up.

Inside that gate it was like a new country, and as all the shrill thin intonations of the French rang in her ears, Cicely could hardly believe that she had—­she said—­only a brick wall between her and old England.