"Yes, sir, she is married to Mr. Davy, my musical godfather." "I remember; and this Mr. Davy, is he here too?" He left off speaking, and sat upon the side of my bed, tucking up one foot like a little boy. "Yes, sir." "And now, I shall ask thee a favor." "What is that, sir?" "That thou wilt let me see her and speak to her; I want to tell her what a brother she has. Not only so, to invite her--do not be shy, Carlomein--to my birthday feast." "Oh, sir!" I exclaimed; and regardless of his presence, I threw myself into the very length of my bed and covered my face. "Now, if _thou_ wilt come to my feast, is another question. I have not reached that yet." "But please to reach it, sir!" I cried, rendered doubly audacious by joy. "But thou wilt have some trouble in coming,--shalt thou be afraid? Not only to dance and eat sugar-plums." "It is all the better, sir, if I have something to do; I am never so well as then." "But thy sister must come to see thee. She must not meddle, nor the godpapa either." "Oh! sir, Mr. Davy could not meddle, and he would rather stay with Millicent,--but he does sing so beautifully." He made no answer, but with wayward grace he started up. "I think they are all gone. Cannot we now go? I am afraid of losing my _queen_." "Sir, who is she?" "Cannot it be imagined by thee?" "Well, sir, I only know of _one_." "Thou art right. A queen is only _one_, just like any other lady. Come, say thou the name; it is a virgin name, and stills the heart like solitude." "I don't think that does still." "Ah! thou hast found that too!" "Sir, you said you wished to go." He opened the door, the lock of which he had played with as he stood, and I ran out first. The pavilion was crowded. "Oh, dear!" said Seraphael, a little piqued, "it's exceedingly hot. Canst thou contrive to find thy friends in all this fuss? I cannot find _mine_." "Sir, my brother and sister were to wait for me in the concert-hall; they cannot come here, you know, sir. If I knew your friends, I think I could find them, even in this crowd." "No," answered the Chevalier, decisively, as he cast his brilliant eyes once round the room, "I know they are not here. I do not _feel_ them. Carlomein, I am assured they are in the garden. For one thing, they could not breathe here." "Let us go to them to the garden." He made way instantly, gliding through the assembly, so that they scarcely turned a head. We were soon on the grass,--so fresh after the autumn rains. Crossing that green, we entered the lime-walk. The first person I saw was Anastase. He was walking lonely, and looking down, as he rarely appeared. So abstracted, indeed, was he that we might have walked over him if Seraphael had not forced me by a touch to pause, and waited until he should approach to our hand. "See," said the Chevalier gleefully, "how solemn he is! No strange thing, Carlomein, that I should be afraid of him. I wonder what he is thinking of! He has quite a countenance for a picture."