"But that has a very learned air," said Mary, "and it is a fashion which makes me feel very literary and of very correct taste." "Ah, Mary, you know so much yourself!" replied the young king, smiling. "You can make verses, and you understand Latin, too, while I have never succeeded in making any headway in it." "But study is our lot, and the only amusement we women have, just as you men and princes are born to action and command." "Nevertheless," rejoined François, "just for the sake of equalling you in one thing, I would like to know as much as my brother Charles." "Apropos of our brother Charles," Mary interrupted, "did you notice him yesterday in the part he assumed in the allegory of 'Religion defended by the Three Divine Virtues'?" "Yes," said the king; "he was one of the horsemen who represented the virtues,--Charity, I think." "The very same," replied Mary. "Well, did you see, Sire, with what fury he belabored the head of poor Heresy?" "Yes, indeed, when she came forward in the midst of the flames with the body of a serpent. Charles seemed to be quite beside himself, really." "And, tell me, gentle Sire," continued the queen, "did not that head of Heresy seem to you to resemble some one?" "Why, yes," said François, "I thought I must be mistaken; but it assuredly wore the expression of Monsieur de Coligny, did it not?" "Say, rather, that it was Monsieur l'Amiral, feature for feature." "And all those devils who carried him off!" said the king. "And the joy of our uncle the cardinal!" "And my mother's smile." "It was almost frightful!" said the young queen. "And yet, François, your mother was very beautiful last evening with her dress of shimmering gold and her tan-colored veil,--a magnificent costume!" "Yes, it was," replied the king; "and so, my _mignonne_, I have ordered a similar dress for you at Constantinople, through Monsieur de Grandchamp, and you shall also have a veil of Roman gauze like my mother's." "Oh, thanks, my gallant spouse! Thanks! I certainly do not envy the fate of our sister Élisabeth of Spain, who, they say, never wears the same dress twice. And yet I should not like to have any woman in France, even your mother, seem to be more finely dressed than I, especially in your eyes." "Ah, what difference does it make, after all?" said the king; "for will you not always be the loveliest of them all?" "It hardly seemed so yesterday," pouted Mary; "for after the torch-dance that I danced, you never said a single word to me. I must needs think that you did not like it."