“Begging for Strawberry-leaves!” the Countess of Tolga brilliantly commented. “Apropos of Honours ... it appears King Geo has signified his intention of raising his present representative in Pisuerga to the peerage.” “After her recent _Cause_, Lady Something should be not a little consoled.” “She was at the début of the new diva, little Miss Hellvellyn (the foreign invasion has indeed begun!), at the Opera-House last night, so radiant....” “When she cranes forward out of her own box to smile at someone into the next, I can’t explain ... but one feels she ought to hatch,” the Queen murmured, repairing capriciously from one couch to another. “We neglect our guests, my dear,” the King expostulatingly exclaimed, bending over his consort anxiously from behind. “Tell me, Willie,” she cooed, caressing the medals upon his breast, and drawing him gently down: “tell me? Didst thou enjoy thy cigar, dear, with King Geo?” “I can recall in my time, Child, a suaver flavour....” “Thy little chat, though, dearest, was well enough?” “I would not call him crafty, but I should say he was a man of considerable subtlety ...” the King evasively replied. “One does not need, my dearest nectarine, a prodigy of intelligence however to take him in!” “Before the proposed Loan, love, can be brought about, he may wish to question thee as to thy political opinions.” The Queen gave a little light laugh. “No one knows what my political opinions are; I don’t myself!” “And I’m quite confident of it: But, indeed, my dear, we neglect our functions.” “I only wish it could have been a _long_ engagement, Willie....” XV In the cloister eaves, the birds were just awakening, and all the spider scales, in the gargoyled gables, glanced fresh with dew. Above the Pietà, on the porter’s gate, slow-speeding clouds, like knots of pink roses, came blowing across the sky, sailing away in titanic bouquets towards the clear horizon. All virginal in the early sunrise what enchantment the world possessed! The rhythmic sway-sway of the trees, the exhalations of the flowers, the ethereal candour of this early hour,--these raised the heart up to their Creator. Kneeling at the casement of a postulant’s cell, Laura de Nazianzi recalled that serene, and just thus had she often planned must dawn her bridal day! Beyond the cruciform flower-beds, and the cloister wall, soared the Blue Jesus, the storied windows of its lofty galleries aglow with light. “Most gracious Jesus. Help me to forget. For my heart aches. Uphold me now.” But to forget to-day, was well-nigh she knew impossible.... Once it seemed she caught the sound of splendid music from the direction of the Park, but it was too early for music yet. Away in the palace, the Princess Elsie must be already astir ... in her peignoir, perhaps? The bridal-garment unfolded upon the bed: But no; it was said the bed indeed was where usually her Royal-Highness’ dogs....