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'A footman has brought it from Granjolaye, and is waiting for an answer. The letter ran thus: 'Monsieur: 'I am directed by Her Majesty the Queen Hélène to request the pleasure of your company at the Château de Granjolaye to-morrow at eleven. Her Majesty desires me to add that she has only to-day learned of your presence in the country. 'Agréez, Monsieur, l'assurance de mes sentiments distingués,
Everybody will remember, too, how, the Papal Separation once pronounced, he had retaliated upon her with a decree of absolute divorce, and a sentence of perpetual banishment, voted by his own parliament. Whither she had betaken herself after these troubles Paul had never heard until, yesterday, arriving at Saint-Graal, they told him she was living cloistered like a nun at Granjolaye.
'It's no use, I'm in for it, he confessed. After all, he was out of England. He was in Gascony, the borderland between amorous France and old romantic Spain. I don't know whom his imagination dwelt the more fondly with: the stricken Queen, beyond there, alone in the darkness and the silence, where the night lay on the forest of Granjolaye; or the pale horse-woman of the morning.
"When I'm big I'm going back to Saint-Graal; and if her father won't let me really marry her, because I'm a bourgeois, then we'll just go on making believe we're married." She laughed. 'And now you are big, and you've come back to Saint-Graal, and your lady-love is at Granjolaye. Why don't you call on her and offer to redeem your promise? 'Why doesn't she send for me bid me to an audience?
It amounted to scarcely more than a single meagre fact. A few months after the divorce, she had returned to Granjolaye, and she had never once been known to set her foot beyond the limits of her garden from that day to this. She had arrived at night, attended by her two German ladies-in-waiting.
He looked after her, grinding his teeth. Was she that sort? 'One never can tell. Her face is so fine so noble even. The next day, 'Yes, I suppose it's very pretty. But I wasn't thinking of Nature, he informed her, as she approached. She drew up. 'Oh, it has its human interest too, no doubt. She glanced in the direction of the Château of Granjolaye. 'The Queen, said he.
Upon my word, I never had been. Besides, the idea is stolen. It's almost a literal translation from Rossetti. What with a little imagination and a little ingenuity, one can do wonderfully well on other people's experience. 'I don't believe you. You have been in love a hundred times. 'Never. 'Never? Not even with Hélène de la Granjolaye de Ravanches? 'Oh, I don't count my infancy.
On that first morning, the first after his arrival at Saint-Graal, and the first, also, of the many on which they encountered each other in the forest, he was bent upon a sentimental pilgrimage to Granjolaye. He was partly obeying, partly seeking, an emotion.
Otherwise, how could she have found the Sentier des Contrebandiers? She wasn't from Granjolaye? 'There's no one at Granjolaye save the Queen herself. 'Deceiver! Manuela told me last night. She has her little Court, her maids-of-honour. I think my inconnue looked like a maid-of-honour.
Paul's grandmother, the Comtesse de Louvance, was his next neighbour. Paul remembered him vaguely as a tall, drab, mild-mannered man, with a receding chin, and a soft, rather piping voice, who used to tip him, and have him over a good deal to stay at Granjolaye. On the death of Madame de Louvance, the property of Saint-Graal had passed to her son, Edmond, André's feu Monsieur le Comte.
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