?'

'The gentlest and sweetest of kings,' returned Eleanor; 'as fond of all
that is good and fair and holy as is your own royal father.'

Margaret coughed a little. 'My husband should be a gallant warlike
knight,' she said, 'such as was this king's father.'

'Oh, see! cried Eleanor. 'I saw the glitter of the spears through the
trees. There's another blast of the trumpets! Oh! oh! it is a gallant
sight! If only Jamie, my little brother, could see it! It stirs one's
blood.'

'Ah yes, Elleen,' cried Jean. 'This is something to have come for.'

'And Margaret, sweet Madge,' repeated Eleanor to herself, in her native
Scotch, while King Rene's trumpets, harps, and hautbois burst forth with
an answering peal, so exciting her that her yellow-brown eyes sparkled
and the colour rose in her cheeks, giving her a strange beauty full of
eager spirit. Duke Sigismund turned and gazed at her in surprise, and an
old herald who was waiting near observed, 'Is that the daughter of the
captive King of Scotland? She has his very countenance and bearing.'

The trumpeters and other attendants, bearing the blue-lilied banner of
France, appeared among the trees, and dividing, formed a lane for the
advance of the royal personages. King Rene went forward to meet them,
foremost, so as to be ready to hold the stirrup for his sister the Queen
of France. Duke Sigismund seemed about to give his hand to the Infanta
Violante, as the Provencaux called Yolande, but she was beforehand with
him, linking her arm into Jean's, while Margaret took Eleanor's, and
said in her ear, 'The great awkward German! He is come here to pay his
court to Yolande, but she will none of him. She has better hopes.'

Eleanor hardly attended, for her whole soul was bent on the party
arriving. King Charles, riding on a handsome bay horse, closely followed
by a conveyance such as was called in England a whirlicote, from which
the Queen was handed out by her brother, and then, on a sorrel palfrey,
in a blue gold-embroidered riding-suit--could that be Margaret of
Scotland? The long reddish-yellow hair and the tall figure had a
familiar look. King Rene was telling her something as he helped her to
alight, and with one spring, regardless of all, and of all ceremony,
she sprang forward. 'My wee Jeanie! My Elleen! My titties! Mine ain wee
things,' she cried in her native tongue, as she embraced them by turns,
as if she would have devoured them, with a gush of tears.

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