Well, I knew all the while it was nonsense, but I did feel so miserable I could not tell what to do. I know Raoul and Guillot have a notion that they are only fulfilling the ends of their being by teasing their sisters; but it was something so very new for Guy. "But thou wilt not give over loving _me_, Guy?" I wailed, and I am sure there were tears in my voice as well as my eyes. "My dear, foolish little Lynette!" said Guy, half laughing, and smoothing my hair; "dost thou not know me any better than that? Why, I shall be afraid of talking nonsense, or sense either, if thou must needs take it to heart in that style." I felt rather comforted, but I did not go on with that. There was something else that I wanted to ask Guy, and it was my last opportunity. "Guy," I said softly, after a moment’s pause, "canst thou remember my mother?" "Oh yes, darling," he said. "I was eleven years old when she died." "Didst thou love her?" said I. "Very dearly," he answered—quite grave now. "Am I like her, Guy?" Guy looked down on me, and smiled. "Yes—and no," he said. "The Lady Clémence had lighter hair than thou; and her smile was very sweet. Thine eyes are darker, too, and brighter—there is something of the falcon in them: she had the eyes of the dove. Yet there is a likeness, though it is not easy to tell thee what." "Did Monseigneur love her very much, Guy?" I said. "More than he ever loved any other, I think," answered Guy. "He was married to my mother when both were little children, as thou knowest is generally the case: but he married thine for love. And—I don’t know, but I always fancy that is the reason why he has ever been unwilling to have us affianced in infancy. When people are married as babies, and when they grow up they find that they do not like each other, it must be very disagreeable, I should think." "I should think it was just horrible, Guy," said I. "But Alix and Guillot were affianced as babies." "So they were," said he. "But I doubt if Guillot ever cared about it." "Why, is Umberge one to care about?" I replied. "There is nothing in her of any sort. Was Alix very sorry, Guy, when her betrothed died? How old was she?" "About ten years old," he said. "Oh no—not she. I do not think she had seen him five times." "Well," I said, "I am very glad that I was not treated in that way." So we went on talking. I hardly know what we talked about, or rather what we did not; for it was first one thing and then another, as our thoughts led that way. I asked Guy if he thought that our mothers knew what befel us here on earth, and he said he supposed they must, for how else could the saints and angels hear us?