The Queen raised her eyebrows at him, and, turning slightly, smiled and nodded to Dangeau. Mme Elizabeth bowed abstractedly and turned again to the chessboard which stood between her and her brother. Mme Royale curtsied, but the little Dauphin did not raise his head from some childish game which occupied his whole attention. His mother, after waiting a moment, called him to her and, laying one of her long delicate hands on his petulantly twitching shoulder, observed gently: "Fi donc, my son; did you not see these gentlemen enter? Bid them good evening!" The child tossed his head, but as his father’s gaze met him, he hung it down again, saying in a clear childish voice, "Good evening, Citizens." Mme Elizabeth’s colour rose perceptibly at the form of address, but the Queen smiled, and, giving the boy’s shoulder a little tap of dismissal, she turned to Dangeau. "We forget our manners in this solitude, Monsieur," she said in her peculiarly soft and agreeable voice. Then after a pause, during which Dangeau, to his annoyance, felt that his face was flushing, "It is Monsieur Dangeau, is it not?" "Citizen Dangeau, at your service." Marie Antoinette laughed; the sound was pleasing but disturbing. "Oh, my good Monsieur, I am too old to learn these new forms of address. My son, you see, is quicker"; the arch eyes clouded, the laugh dropped to a sigh, then rippled back again into merriment. "Only figure to yourself, Monsieur, that I have had already to learn one new language, for when I came to France as a bride, all was strange—oh, but so strange—to me. I had hard work, I do assure you; and that good Mme de Noailles was a famous task-mistress!" "Should it be harder to learn simplicity?" said Dangeau, a faint tinge of bitterness in his pleasant voice. "Why, no, Monsieur," returned the Queen, "it should not be. My liking has always been for simplicity. Good bread to eat, fresh water to drink, and a clean white dress to wear,—with these things I could be very well content. But, alas! Monsieur, the last at least is lacking us; and simplicity, though a cardinal virtue now, does not of itself afford an occupation. Pray, Monsieur Dangeau, could you not ask that my sister and I should be permitted the consolation of needlework?" Dangeau coloured. "The Commune has already decided against needle-work," he said rather curtly. "But why then, Monsieur?" "Because we all know that the needle may be used instead of the pen, and that it is as easy to embroider treason on a piece of stuff as to write it on paper," he replied, with some annoyance. The Queen gave a little light laugh. "Oh, de grace! Monsieur," she said, "my sister and I are not so clever! But may we not at least knit? There is nothing treasonable in a few pins and a little wool, is there, M. le Député?" Dangeau shook his head doubtfully. Consciousness of the Queen’s fascination rendered his outward aspect austere, and even ungracious.