She whispered to Lady Guildford: “Send the others away.”

Lady Guildford did so, and when they had gone she took Mary into her arms and rocked her to and fro as she used to when Mary was a child and had needed comfort.

“My dearest Princess,” she murmured. “Tell Guildford.”

“Guildford, it is over.”

“And you are very unhappy?”

Mary nodded. “Because of Charles.”

“Tush!” said Lady Guildford. “And do you think he is weeping at this moment because of you?”

“He is very sad because of me, Guildford.”

“But the King was kind?”

“He is kind. If he were not I should doubtless kill him. And he is very old. He was soon asleep. But I did not sleep, Guildford. I lay there, thinking. …”

“And you are reconciled. I can sense it, dearest. I know you so well.”

“It won’t last, Guildford. That’s why.”

Then suddenly she threw her arms about Lady Guildford’s neck. It was the first time she had given way to such tempestuous weeping.

The King came in. He saw the tears; he saw the embrace.

Mary started to her feet, while Guildford rose and curtsied deeply.

Louis was smiling. “Leave us,” he said to Lady Guildford; and she went.

Mary, her cheeks wet, stood waiting for her husband to ask the reason for her tears; but he did not. She was to learn that it was a point of etiquette at the French Court to avoid seeing or talking of anything that might prove embarrassing.

“My love,” said Louis, taking her hands and kissing them, “I came to give you this.”

He took from his pocket a ring in which was set one of the largest rubies Mary had ever seen.

“Thank you,” she said. “It is very beautiful.”

“Let us try it on your finger.”

He put it on and held her hand admiringly.

“You do not like jewels, my little Queen?” he asked.

“They are very beautiful,” she answered.

“You must learn to love jewels. They become you so.”

He took her cheek between his fingers and pinched it affectionately.

“They are planning a ball for this day,” he told her. “I shall enjoy seeing you dance. Why, you are as light as thistledown and as lovely as a spring day.”

The morning was over when Lady Guildford was able to visit her mistress. Mary took one look at her faithful governess and was alarmed, for Lady Guildford was no longer her calm self; her eyes were wild and there was a hot flush in her cheeks.

She embraced Mary as though she would never let her go.

“Guildford, what is it?” demanded Mary.

“It is goodbye, my dearest.”

“Goodbye!”

“I have had orders to leave for England at once.”

“But you cannot. I need you here.”

“The King does not think so.”

“You mean he has told you that you must go!”

“Not the King in person. But his wishes have been made clear to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He feels I have too much influence over you. He wants you to become wholly French. He saw you with me this morning, dearest. He did not like to see you crying in my arms.”

“I must speak to him. I won’t let you go.”

“He has made up his mind.”

“But we have been together since …”

“Since you were a baby, yes. But you are in no need of a governess now. You are a queen and a wife.”

“I won’t have it, Guildford. I tell you I won’t.”

Mary hurried to the door.

“Where are you going?” Lady Guildford cried in alarm.

Mary turned, her eyes blazing. “I am going to tell the King that I shall choose my own attendants.”

“Dearest, I beg of you, have a care. You will do no good to either of us.”

Mary ignored her and, with blazing eyes and flaming cheeks, ran from the room.

It seemed accidental, but it might not have been, that Marguerite, Duchesse d’Alençon, was in the anteroom through which Mary had to pass on her way to the King’s apartments.

“Madame,” cried Marguerite in alarm, “something is amiss?”

“My attendants are being dismissed,” cried Mary. “Lady Guildford, who has been with me all my life, is being sent back to England.”

“I am so sorry.”

Mary would have passed on, but Marguerite said: “Madame, I should like to help you if you would allow me.”

“Help me?”

“Yes. You are going to the King, are you not?”

“Certainly I am going to the King.”

“I beg of you, do not act rashly. The King appears to be mild but, when he has made up his mind, is very determined.”

“If he has made up his mind on this matter he must unmake it.”

“Madame, forgive me, but you have little experience of our Court. The King has already given orders that your retinue is to be reduced. If you asked him to allow your attendants to remain, he could not grant your wishes because he has already given this order. It would grieve all your friends that your first request to the King should be refused—but refused it would be.”

“I have found the King kind,” retorted Mary; and she went on her way.

The Dauphin and the Duc d’Alençon were with the King when Mary burst in on them. The three men looked surprised, for it seemed that the Queen was ignorant of French etiquette, since she came in thus, unannounced.

François was secretly amused and delighted to see her, as he told himself he always would be. She would have to learn the importance of etiquette at the French Court; doubtless in her brother’s, gracious manners were not of such importance as they were here.

Louis came to her and gently took her hand.

“I want Lady Guildford to remain with me,” she said.

“Lady Guildford?” Louis repeated gently.

“She has been my governess since I was a child. And now she is being sent away, and she tells me that others are going back to England with her.”

“Ah, yes,” said Louis quietly. “I live simply here, and you must perforce do the same. You will not need all the attendants and servants whom you have brought with you. So they must go back to their native land.”

“But …”

She looked from Louis to François, who had raised his eyebrows and was shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

She wanted to tell them that she cared nothing for their French manners. She was angry; she was desolate and she would let them know it.

“The arrangements have been made,” went on Louis, and although he smiled and spoke with the utmost gentleness she saw the purpose in his eyes.

“I was not consulted,” Mary complained.

“My dear little Queen, we did not wish to disturb you with such matters, and it is my custom to decide who shall remain at my Court.”

“Lady Guildford …”

The King said to François, “Have my daughter and your sister brought here. They will look after the Queen and show her that she has new friends to replace those who are going.”

“But I want …”

“You want these ladies to be brought to you? It shall be done.”

Mary suddenly felt gauche, young and helpless. She saw that Marguerite d’Alençon was right. She had been foolish to rush in in this way. She should have waited until she was alone with the King and then tried to persuade him. Now she had spoiled everything.

François, who had returned to the King’s side, was giving her a look which was both tender and a warning; and she warmed toward him because she believed that he was trying to help her.

Almost immediately the page was announcing the arrival of Claude and Marguerite. Claude looked sullen, Marguerite lovely and eager.

“My dears,” said Louis affably, “the Queen is feeling a little unhappy because some of her English friends have to leave for their home. I want you two to look after her, to take their places.”

“Yes, Sire,” said Marguerite, while Claude mumbled inaudibly.

“Go with the Queen back to her apartments and explain to her how useful you intend to make yourselves.”

Feeling foolish and frustrated, Mary left the King’s presence with her two new attendants.

Louis’s delight in his bride grew stronger, and, because he wished to compensate her for the loss of her English attendants, the next day he gave her a tablet covered in diamonds and a pendant of pearls.

Mary accepted the gifts with thanks but inward indifference. She had written at once to Henry and Wolsey telling them of her indignation over the dismissal of her friends, and imploring them to take up this matter with her husband.

But as those days passed she became slightly reconciled for two reasons. The first was that Marguerite had become her friend, and Marguerite was, in truth, much more interesting and entertaining than dear old Lady Guildford could ever be. Marguerite’s mother, Louise of Savoy, was also making herself agreeable and, as the Dauphin sought every opportunity of being in her company, she found that this fascinating trio were helping her through the difficult days.

The other reason was that the excitement of his wedding and the days and nights which followed had been too much for Louis. His gout had become worse and was alarming his doctors.

Louis called Mary to his couch one day and, when they were alone together, he took her hand and smiled at her regretfully.

“My dear,” he said, “I greatly desire to see you crowned and make your ceremonial entry into Paris, but as you see, I am confined to my couch, and my physicians tell me that it would be unwise for me to leave Abbeville for some days.”

“I fancy,” said Mary, “that you have been departing from your quiet life during the last days and this is not good for you. You must rest more.”

“But, my dear, I want you to know how pleased we all are to have you with us, and it is only fitting that we should make merry. It is my wish that the balls and banquets should go on.”

“But you should rest more,” said Mary. “I am your wife and I shall insist that you do.”

He was touched that she could be so concerned for his health, and Mary was quick to seize the advantage. She took on the role of a charming little nurse and gave orders in the King’s apartment.

“This afternoon you shall rest on your couch and I will sit beside you and talk to you if you wish. Or I can be silent.”

What an enchanting creature she was—so young and yet willing to forgo the pleasures of the hunt or the banquet for the sake of her husband.

He told her this, taking her hand and kissing it as he did so; and when she sensed that he was inclined to become amorous she raised a finger and put on a stern expression.

“I am going to command you in this matter. You are to rest; and there must be no excitements.”

He allowed her to take charge. He found it very pleasant to lie back on his couch, the delightful creature beside him, listening to her quaint accent which he found quite fascinating, while she occasionally soothed his hot brow with sweet unguents; and although she allowed him to stroke her arms she was very insistent that caresses should stop there.

“I have to consider what is good for you,” said the charming child.

It was so comforting to realize that she was young and inexperienced, that she accepted his shortcomings as a lover; indeed insisted that he should not exert himself.

Each day he gave her a jewel. He had put several trinkets aside for her, and he doled them out one by one—partly because he was a man who always liked to get the utmost return for what he paid out; partly because she expressed as much pleasure over one small jewel as she would have done over twenty.

He contemplated that rarely had he been so contented in his life, and his greatest regret was that when he had married Mary Tudor he was fifty-two instead of twenty-two.

He did not wish, of course, to allow life to become dull for her. He had dismissed her English attendants because he believed they had too much influence over her, and when she was upset he did not want her to cry in the arms of Lady Guildford but in his. That little disturbance was now settled, thanks to Marguerite de Valois who was as scintillating a companion as anyone could have.

He sent for the Dauphin. François came at once to his couch. Louis was not so pleased with François; there was something sly about the Big Boy. Outwardly he was too gay, and he could not be feeling gay. If Mary gave birth to a son—not an impossibility—that would be the end of François’s hopes; so what had he to be gay about?

Definitely the boy was sly. Now he was doubtless amused because an old man had become too excited over his marriage to a beautiful young girl and consequently had to take to his couch for a few days.

“My boy,” he said, “I have decided to delay leaving Abbeville for a few days. The gout is troubling me and my physicians say I need rest. I cannot therefore escort the Queen as I would like to, and I do not wish that all the balls and banquets should be canceled. As the nobleman of highest rank you should take my place at the Queen’s side.”