The next excursion was to be their last, and Miss Midland had suggested
a return to Versailles to see the park in its spring glory. They
lunched in a little inclosure, rosy with the pink and white magnolia
blossoms, where the uncut grass was already ankle-deep and the
rose-bushes almost hid the gray stone wall with the feathery abundance
of their first pale green leaves. From a remark of the girl's that
perhaps this was the very spot where Marie Antoinette had once gathered
about her gay court of pseudo-milkmaids, they fell into a discussion of
that queen's pretty pastoral fancy. Harrison showed an unexpected
sympathy with the futile, tragic little merrymaker.
"I expect she got sick and tired of being treated like a rich, great
lady, and wanted to see what it would feel like to be a human being.
The king is always disguising himself as a goat-herd to make sure he
can be loved for his own sake."
"But those stories are all so monotonous!" she said impatiently. "The
king always is made to find out that the shepherdess does love him for
his own sake. What would happen if she wouldn't look at him?"
Harrison laughed, "Well, by George, I never thought of that. I should
say if he cared enough about her to want his own way, he'd better get
off his high-horse and say, 'Look-y-here, I'm not the common ordinary
mutt I look. I'm the king in disguise. _Now_ will you have me?"
Miss Midland looked at him hard. "Do you think it likely the girl would
have him then?"
"Don't you?" he said, still laughing, and tucking away the last of a
foie-gras sandwich.