tuffed rolls, heavy in material and covered with
jewels, which shoots up into two high peaks above her forehead. Six
ladies are in waiting, two in black and gold, with the same enormous
head-gears. They sit on the edge of her Majesty's sofa, while four
ladies of inferior rank and plainer garments are contented with low
benches. Christine reappears in her blue dress, and white-veiled, peaked
cap. She kneels before the queen, on a square carpet with a
geometrical-patterned border, and presents her book. A white Italian
hound lies at the foot of the couch, while beside Isabelle sits a small
white dog, resembling the one we saw in Christine's study. As we can
hardly suppose Christine would bring her pet on so solemn an
occasion,--far less allow him to jump up beside the queen,--and as this
little animal wears no gold bells, we are led to suppose that little
white dogs were in fashion in the fourteenth century.

We cannot say that the portrait of Isabelle gives us any idea of her
splendid beauty; but "handsome is that handsome does," and as Isabelle's
work was a very bad one in the Middle Ages, we will say no more about
her.

Christine was but twenty-five years of age when she became a widow, and
her personal charms captivated the heart of no less a personage than the
Earl of Salisbury, who came ambassador from England to demand the hand
of the very youthful princess, Isabelle, for his master.

They exchanged verses; and although Salisbury spoke by no means
mysteriously, the sage Christine affected to view his declarations only
in the light of complimentary speeches from a gallant knight. The Earl
considered himself as rejected, bade adieu to love, and renounced
marriage. To Christine he made a very singular proposal for a rejected
lover,--that of taking with him to England her eldest son, promising to
devote himself to his education and preferment. The offer was too
valuable to be declined by a poor widow, whose pen was her only means of
supporting her family. That such a proof of devotion argued a tenderer
feeling than that of knightly gallantry must have been apparent to
Christine; but for reasons best understood by herself,--and shall we not
believe with a heart yet true to her husband's memory?--she merely
acknowledged the kindness shown to her son; and the Earl and his
adopted boy left France together. When Richard II. was deposed, Henry
Bolingbroke struck off the head of the Earl of Salisbury. Among the
papers of t