"Madame, what makes you happy?"
She looked down at me with frank seriousness, but her eyes still kept
their sweet, strange brightness; she pressed her palms together as she
always did when much in earnest.
"Monsieur, is it so strange after all? Think of the wonder of what I
see about me! The great stars, the dawns, and the strange waters that
go no one knows where. I have lived all my life in courts and have not
felt trammeled by them, but now---- Monsieur, there is a freedom, yes,
and a happiness stirring in me that I have not known. I wonder if you
understand?"
I watched the starlight draw elfin lines across her face, and my heart
suddenly cried through my tongue words that my brain would have
forbidden.
"I understand this at least. Madame, you talk of happiness. I am
finding happiness at this moment that I never felt at court,--no, nor
in the wilderness till now."
She did not draw back nor protest, but she looked at me with wistful
gravity.
"Monsieur---- Monsieur"----
"I am your servant, madame."
She halted. "This is a masque, a comedy," she stumbled. "This--this
life in the greenwood. Does it not seem a fantasy?"
"You seem very real to me, madame."
"Monsieur, I tell you, it is a masque.
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