"I do feel sorrowful, Margot; but I do not know why."
"My Damoiselle is weary. And all great joy brings a dull, tired feeling after it. I suppose it is the infirmity of earth. The angels do not feel so."
"I should like to be an angel," said I. "It must be so nice to fly!"
"And I," said Marguerite; "but not for that reason. I should like to have no sin, and to see the good God."
"Oh dear!" said I. "That is just what I should not like. In the sense of never doing wrong, it might be all very well: but I should not want never to have any amusement, which I suppose thou meanest: and seeing the good God would frighten me dreadfully."
"Does my Damoiselle remember the time when little Jacquot, Bertrade's brother, set fire to the hay-rick by playing with lighted straws?"
"Oh yes, very well. Why, what has that to do with it?"
"Does she recollect how he shrieked and struggled, when Robert and Pierre took him and carried him into the hall, for Monseigneur himself to judge him for his naughtiness?"
"Oh yes, Margot. I really felt sorry for the child, he was so terrified; and yet it was half ludicrous--Monseigneur did not even have him whipped."
"Yet, if I remember rightly, my Damoiselle was standing by Monseigneur's side at the very time; and she did not look frightened in the least. Will she allow her servant to ask why?"
"Why should I, Margot? I had done nothing wrong."
"And why is my Damoiselle more like Jacquot than herself, when she comes to think of seeing the good God?"
"Ah!--thou wouldst like me to say, Because I have done wrong, I suppose."
"Yes; but I think there was another reason as well."
"My Damoiselle is Monseigneur's own child. She knows him. He loves her, and she knows it."
"But we are all children of the good God, Margot."
"Will my Damoiselle pardon me? We are all His creatures: not all His children. Oh no, no!"
"O Margot!" said I suddenly, "didst thou note that tall, dark, handsome knight, who stood on Count Guy's left hand,--Count Raymond of Tripoli?"
"He in the mantle lined with black sable, and gold-barred scarlet hose?"
"I saw him. Why, if it please my Damoiselle?"
Marguerite is very fond of answering one question by another.
"My Damoiselle, every man has a mark upon his brow which the good God and His angels can see. But few men see it, and in some it is not easy to see. Many foreheads look blank to our eyes. But sooner or later, one of the two marks is certain to shine forth--either the holy cross of our Lord, or the badge of the great enemy, the star that fell from heaven. And what I saw on that man's lofty brow was not the cross of Christ, but the star of Satan."