Monseigneur called me down into the hall, as I stood picking the dead leaves from my rose-bushes for a pot-pourri. There was no one in the hall but himself. Well, of course there were a quantity of servitors and retainers, but they never count for anything. I mean, there was nobody that is anybody. He bade me come up to him, and he drew me close, kissed me on the forehead, and stroked down my hair. "What will my cabbage say to what I have to tell her?" said he. "Is it something pleasant, Monseigneur?" said I. "Now, there thou posest me," he answered, "Yes,—in one light. No,—in another. And in which of the two lights thou wilt see it, I do not yet know." I looked up into his face and waited. "Dost thou like Messire Raymond de Montbeillard?" "No, Monseigneur," I answered. "No? Ha! then perchance thou wilt not like my news." "Messire Raymond has something to do with it?" "Every thing." "Well," said I, I am afraid rather saucily, "so long as he does not want to marry me, I do not much care what he does." Monseigneur pinched my ear, kissed me, and seemed extremely amused. "Thee? No, no! Not just yet, my little cabbage. Not just yet! But suppose he wanted to marry Alix?" "Does he want to marry Alix?" "He does." "And under your good leave, Monseigneur?" "Well, yes. I see no good reason to the contrary, my little cat. He is a brave knight, and has a fine castle, and is a real Carlovingian."[#] [#] Throughout France in the Middle Ages, the Carlovingian blood was rated at an extravagant value. "He is a donkey!" said I. "Real, too." "Ha, hush, then!" replied Monseigneur, yet laughing, and patting my cheek. "Well, well—perhaps not overburdened with brains—how sharp thou art, child, to be sure! (No want of brains in that direction.) But a good, worthy man, my cabbage, and a stalwart knight." "And when is it to be, Monseigneur?" I asked. "In a hurry to see the fine dresses?" demanded my gracious Lord, and laughed again. "Nay, I think not till after Christmas. Time enough then. _I_ am in no hurry to lose my housekeeper. Canst thou keep house, my rabbit?—ha, ha! Will there be anything for dinner? Ha, ha, ha, ha!" I was half frightened, and yet half delighted. Of course, I thought, if Alix goes away, Umberge will come and reign here. Nobody is likely to think me old enough or good enough. "Under your Nobility’s good leave, I will see to that," said I. Monseigneur answered by a peal of laughter. "Ha, ha, ha! Showing her talons, is she? Wants to rule, my cabbage—does she? A true woman, on my troth! Ha, ha, ha!" "If it please you, Monseigneur, why should you come short of dinner because I see about it?" My gracious Lord laughed more than ever. "No reason at all, my little rabbit!—no reason at all! Try thy hand, by all means—by all means! So Umberge does not need to come? Ha, ha, ha, ha!" "Certainly not for me," said I, rather piqued.