attendants. But at other times, chiefly when first awaking,
or else when anything had crossed her will, she would fall into agonies
of passionate grief--weeping, shrieking, and rending her hair with almost
a frenzy of misery, as she called herself utterly desolate, and screamed
aloud for her king to return to her.

She was quite past the management of her English ladies on these
occasions; and her mother, declaring that she was becoming crazed like
her father, declined having anything to do with her. Even Sir Lewis
Robsart she used to spurn aside; and nothing ever seemed effectual, but
for the Demoiselle de Luxemburg, with her full sweet voice, and force of
will in all the tenderness of strength, caressingly to hold her still,
talk to her almost as to an infant, and sing away her violence with some
long low ditty--sometimes a mere Flemish lullaby, sometimes a Church
hymn. As Lady Warwick said, when the ladies were all wearied out with
the endeavour to control their Queen's waywardness and violence, and it
sighed away like a departing tempest before Esclairmonde, 'It was as
great a charity as ever ministering as a St. Katherine's bedeswoman could
be.'

To the young Lady Montagu, the blow was astounding. It was the first
realization that a great man could die, a great support be taken away;
and, child-like, she moved about, bewildered and stunned, in the great
household on which the dark cloud had descended--clinging to Esclairmonde
as if to protect her from she knew not what; anything dreadful might
happen, with the King dead, and her father and husband away.

Alas! poor Esclairmonde! She was in much more real danger herself, as
came to the bride's mind presently, when, in the midst of her
lamentations, she exclaimed, 'And, ah, Clairette! there ends his goodly
promise about the sisterhood of good works at Paris.'

Esclairmonde responded with a gesture of sorrow, and the murmur of the
'_In principibus non confide_' that is so often the echo of
disappointment.

'And what will you do?' continued Alice, watching her anxiously, as her
face, turning very pale, was nevertheless uplifted towards heaven.

'Strive to trust more in God, less in princes,' she breathed forth,
clasping her hands, and compressing her lips.

'Nay, but does it grieve you so intensely?' asked Alice. 'Mayhap--'

'Alas! sweet one! I would that the fall of this device seemed like to be
the worst effect to me of your good king's death. Pray f