"Indeed I did!" cried François; "but what could I say, in God's name, beside all those clever wits of the court who were pouring compliments upon you in prose and verse? Dubellay claimed that you had no need of a torch like the other ladies, but that the light that shone from your eyes was sufficient. Maisonfleur was appalled at the danger from the vivid sparks from your eyes which were never extinguished and might destroy the entire hall. Whereupon Ronsard added that the stars which shone in your head might serve to lighten the darkness of the night, and to put the sun to shame by day. Was there any need, pray, after all those poetic flights for me to come and add my poor testimony that I thought you and your dance fascinating?" "Why not?" was Mary's playful retort. "That little word from you would have rejoiced my heart more than all their tasteless flattery." "Well, then, I say it this morning, _mignonne_, with all my heart; for the dance was perfect, and almost made me forget the Spanish _pavane_ which I used to like so much, and the Italian _pazzemeni_, which you and poor Élisabeth danced together so divinely. In fact, dear, whatever you do is always done better than what others do; for you are the fairest of the fair, and the prettiest women look like chambermaids beside you! Yes, in your royal attire or in this simple dishabille, you are always the same, my queen and my love. I see only you, and I love none but you!" "Dear _mignon_!" "My adored darling!" "My life!" "My supreme and only good! See! Though you had but a peasant's hood, I would love you better than all the queens of the earth!" "For my own part," replied Mary, "though you were but a simple page, you and none other would reign in my heart." "Oh, _mon Dieu_!" added François, "how I love to pass my fingers through your soft silky, fair hair, and to play with it and tangle it! I can well imagine that your women might often ask leave to kiss that round white neck, and those arms, so beautifully turned and so plump. But don't you let them any more, Mary!" "Why not, pray?" "Because I am jealous!" said the king. "Foolish child!" laughed Mary, with an adorable childish gesture. "Ah!" cried François, passionately, "if I had to choose between renouncing my crown and my Mary, the choice would soon be made." "What madness!" exclaimed Mary. "How could any one give up the crown of France, which is the fairest of all after the heavenly crown?" "Because of the mark it makes upon my brow!" said François, with a smile that was half playful and half sad. "What!" said Mary. "Oh, but I forgot that we have one matter to settle--and a matter of the most supreme importance--which my uncle De Lorraine has thrust upon us." "Oh, ho!" cried the king; "that does not often happen." "He leaves it for us," said Mary, very seriously, "to decide upon the color of the uniform of our Swiss Guards."